February, 2006

Life / Travel — 4 Comments
20
Feb 06

Los Angeles

Right now, I am in Los Angeles. Actually, I am sitting outside Jamba Juice just down from our hotel on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood, drinking a Starbucks and stealing free wireless from our hotel. We leave for the airport in a few hours – or less if we get bored. There’s not much you can do in three hours when you have to come back to the hotel to pick up your extremely heavy suitcases, once of which is now broken.

We arrived on Thursday after enduring an hour-long flight from Brussels to Heathrow. This was proceeded by a sad farewell at the airport to Peter’s mum and oldest brother. I told her that if I could choose my mother-”in-law” that I would choose her. She cried. I had tears in my eyes. It was all very sad.

After the flight to Heathrow, we flew to Los Angeles. For 10.5-hours. We flew Air New Zealand, which seems to be the best long-haul airline I’ve ever flown. The food was surprisingly good, they had a little magazine library and a water fountain and even the soap in the toilets was nice New Zealand manuka handwash. We arrived scruffy, sweaty, and extremely tired, and caught an awful shuttle to the hotel. The shuttle took 2.5-hours to get from LAX to our hotel in West Hollywood. If he’d gone straight to the hotel it should have only taken about 45 minutes. We were pretty pissed off so we didn’t tip him and he looked pretty pissed off at us. I guess it was karma that I left my favourite scarf in the shuttle, and even though I got the taxi number and called Customer Services, I will probably never see it again. Boo.

We stayed at the Ramada Plaza West Hollywood. It’s not the flashest place, and at a reduced rate of $129 per night it was probably even a little crappy. But, although the bed was uncomfortable, the shower ruled and I’m still stealing their free internet. Sweet! The area is pretty good – lots of good restaurants and cafes and not far from shopping.

Yesterday we caught the bus to Santa Monica beach. The beach is so out of Baywatch. They had the little Baywatch lifeguard towers with the red buoys hanging from the roofs. I should have run in slow motion, but I guess I’ll have to do that next time. We walked around Third Street Promenade which was nowhere near as cool as I thought it would be. The street performers were mostly lame, and there weren’t that many of them. However, I did manage to finally find a pair of awesome jeans which I am super pleased about although they probably won’t fit in a month after I lose the extra European weight off my ass that I’ve been saving up for the past two years. Perhaps I shouldn’t have paid $210 then. Oops.

My first and only celebrity sighting was a bit lame – Jewel (you know, the countryish singer, sure you know her, that one, right!) walked past us while we were eating outside Basix Cafe on Santa Monica and went inside to eat. She was wear a Paris Hilton-esque pink velour tracksuit and her hair looked very unwashed. I never pictured her as someone to wear a velour chav suit, but if it wasn’t actually her it was her twin. Seriously.

I wish we’d had more time here – I want to see the Hollywood sign and the Walk of Fame and maybe even go to Universal Studios. Yes, I am that lame, although not lame enough for Disneyland. Perhaps I’ll go there when I’m 55 like my parents did (they really did do that).

Right. Now it’s off to the airport time! Yay! 13 hours on a plane! I can’t wait!

Argh!

Life / Travel — 4 Comments
16
Feb 06

Farewell Europe

Tomorrow morning Peter and I leave Belgium, after having stayed here for the past three months. After we get up at some ungodly hour, like 5am, we drive to Brussels, catch a plane to London, then catch a plane to Los Angeles. There we stay for 3 nights in relative luxury in West Hollywood where we will booze it up. Then we catch a plane to Auckland, New Zealand, then on to Wellington. So, much, flying.

Our last few days of Belgium have been great. We had drinks at a weird squat-cum-bar-cum-music venue called something like Skeldeaapen. I was beer wench all night, and had loads of fun serving drinks. Apparently I pour beer “good for a foreigner”.

We had a leaving dinner with Peter’s family where I baked two pavlovas. They are rather popular with the Belgians over here. Peter’s mum wrote a speech which she read to us in front of everyone while crying. She said I was a “strong woman” and that Peter “needs a strong woman”. I think that’s a complement, but oh well, it is true, I’m bossy. Peter’s 6-year-old nephew cried when his Mamie was reading the letter. It was so awfully sad, and sweet. His three nephews gave us like five hugs goodbye each. So cute!

So, we’re pretty much packed. We shipped twenty-five boxes of Peter’s crap. That is in addition to the six large boxes of crap we shipped from Manchester. But the good thing is that we only have one suitcase each to take on the plane. And not even crazy big suitcases like when we arrived on the Eurostar from London. One regular suitcase each. It’s great! I think because we aren’t taking much stuff, it doesn’t actually feel like we’re going anywhere. We could be going on holiday for a week. Except we’re actually moving to the other side of the world. Argh!

Even though I just said “argh”, I’m not actually nervous yet. Okay, I just got butterflies saying that, but generally I’m not nervous. I’m firstly thinking about having fun in LA, and then once we go to leave I can get excited about New Zealand.

I can’t wait to see my family, especially my sister and her kid Kyra who is the cutest girl in the entire universe (I’m not biased at all). I’m going to drink loads of coffee in Wellington, eat cake, go out to restaurants, get sushi and eat it at the waterfront, go for a walk in the bush, swim at the beach and also at the river, go on holiday with our awesome British friend Tom who has been in New Zealand for a month already, and generally be excited that the sun is shining. Huzzah!

Uncategorized — 28 Comments
13
Feb 06

I Hate Hairdressers

I’ve always been a bit scared of hairdressers. Mostly because, in my experience, they seem to fuck hair rather than dress it. It also seems that my experience is of choosing really bad hairdressers.

The first time it wasn’t my choice. I was about seven-years-old and my mother took me to the hairdressers around the corner. Now, cutting a kid’s hair isn’t rocket science. It’s not like I asked for foils or an up-do. My mum just wanted them to trim my gorgeous verging-on-bowl-cut style and my fringe. I remember them hacking my fringe into complete unevenness, me crying, and my mum fixing it when we got home.

I think my mum cut my hair for quite a few years after that. I also used to get her to perm my hair into waves with the leftovers of her perming solution, because all I ever wanted was curly hair. She never did it bad, but when I was 13 I wanted what everyone in my town was getting in 1993 – the spiral perm. So I went to a hairdressers. Again, they messed with my fringe, which was actually perming my short fringe so it was absolutely fucking horrid. And it being a spiral perm, it didn’t drop for months. I remember hating it, but somehow I didn’t think to clip it back. SMRT.

The next few years were fairly uneventful. I learned which hairdressers I liked and what styles I liked. Then I moved to Texas when I was 21 and started with a succession of shitty hairdressers. There were the ones who convinced me to use Aveda products, even though they dried my hair to a crisp and made my scalp itch. There was the one who never got it quite right. There was the guy – the first male hairdresser I went to – who took offence to me telling him I didn’t want him to cut my hair with a razor because my hair always frizzed afterwards (”Well, I’ve been cutting hair for 30 years, blah blah blah.” Yes, it frizzed.) Then I finally found a good hairdresser, but only a few months before I left for the United Kingdom.

In Manchester, I saw one girl who gave me “blonde” foils that actually turned out orange. Then when I pointed out that they were orange and not the colour I wanted, the senior colourist (otherwise known as Bitch) got all snooty at me and said that the orange was the colour I chose from the book, and took some convincing to fix it. The girl who cut my hair was actually really good, but she moved salons and didn’t tell me so again I was back to square one – going to random hairdressers and hoping for the best.

There was the one who styled my hair with so much gel (yes, gel!) that it crusted. There was the one who when told I was growing my hair and I just wanted a reshape decided to cut off all the length from the layers I’d been growing for a year. She was also the one who I asked not to straighten my hair and then cut it, but decided that that’s what she was going to do anyway. She thinned the ends out so much that it looked like I hadn’t had my hair cut in five years, and it also looked totally fugly. That was the only time I cried after a haircut since I was seven. That time I complained to the owner who then tried to fix my hair but it still looked like shit.

So a month ago I decided to get my hair cut in Antwerp. I went to the fanciest looking place I saw in town. The place that used the products I liked. Kreatos just off the Meir was the place I choose. The guy who cut my hair, Fabien, seemed friendly and spoke very good English and seemed to understand what I was talking about. When he was just about to start cutting, he held up a big chunk from the top at the back and went to cut about three inches off. In a big clump. Like when someone is getting a ponytail chopped off. I thought he was kidding, but now I’m sure he wasn’t. He was actually going to cut my hair like that. But while I was still convinced he was messing with me (I’d told him about my bad experience previously), I sat there patiently until he finished. He showed me the back with the mirror and it looked pretty bad. I asked to hold the mirror myself and had a look at the sides and back. For some bizarre reason, there was a giant hole of missing hair on the side that he wasn’t showing me with the mirror. I pointed this out and was like, OMFG what is that hole? To which he responded with, “I didn’t cut that.” Yeah, okay Fabien. That’s why I haven’t noticed it for the past five months. I’m sure you didn’t do it.

I have been wearing my hair in a ponytail for the past month. In a few weeks, once I arrive in Wellington, I will try to find a hairdresser. I will probably have to get my hair cut really short, just to hide the fuckedupness. Or, it will be fucked up once more.

Seriously, I hate hairdressers.

Uncategorized — 6 Comments
11
Feb 06

Newsvine

Newsvine is a new website that lets you read, write, and seed news. You can read articles posted directly from media organisations, as well as articles seeded by users. You can also write your own column, which will also generate revenue for yourself through advertisements once it is out of beta.

It’s all very web 2.0, so read their introduction to Newsvine for more information and to fully understand what it’s about. I didn’t see the point when I first signed up, but now I rather like it!

Until it is out of beta, new accounts are only available by invite. I have 20 spare, so post in the comments if you want one!

And don’t forget to check out my column!

Rants / Technology — 10 Comments
10
Feb 06

IT Pro Antwerpen: They Suck!

Yesterday, I mentioned very briefly about having some drama with the video iPod my boyfriend gave me for my birthday. Now here is the expanded version.

The iPod in question was a white 30GB video iPod. My boyfriend bought it for me on the 30th of January, and gave it to me the same day (my birthday is actually on the 31st, but my boyfriend can never wait to give presents). When I opened it the box and took off the plastic packaging, I noticed that the scroll wheel was tilted to the right and had a slight gap on the left-hand side. The scroll wheel worked, but the fault was very noticeable and the unevenness of the back and forward icons made me feel a bit dizzy if I stared at it – it looked like my eyes were off because you wouldn’t expect it to be misaligned. Also, when you pay €329 for an MP3 player, you expect quality. So no problem we think – we’ll just take it back the next day, on my birthday, before we spend a fun day in town. Right? Wrong!

The iPod was purchased from IT Pro on Eiermarkt in Antwerp’s city centre. We go in, explain the problem to one of the guys and he calls whom I can only assume is his supervisor – Dimitri. I explain that it’s brand new, it’s just been opened the night before, is unused, and very obviously has a manufacturing defect, and that I would like to swap it for another one. Dimitri tells me that it is not possible to swap it immediately in the store. I suggest a refund – and am again told this is not possible. I am told that the only way to get it fixed is to send it off to Apple for service.

His reasoning for this was that every iPod that is sold is automatically registered to a name and if it was returned they couldn’t resell it because it would be in my name. I explain that I haven’t registered it with Apple, but he still says that it’s registered to me – perhaps by the power of thought? I can only imagine.

But hang on, this is a brand new iPod with a manufacturing defect – I don’t want it serviced. I want it replaced. I mention the Apple 14-day right-to-return policy (clause 7.1!), which is that you can return anything within that time frame and it doesn’t even need to be broken, except opened software, of course. He tells me that they are not Apple and do not follow Apple policies. I question this because they are an authorised Apple reseller, but he again states that they “are not Apple”. I mention the 7-day right-to-return policy under Belgian law, and he goes on to tell me that this does not exist and that it is not Belgian law.

By now, I am pretty fucking pissed off. I say, come on! It’s my birthday! I just want to get my iPod fixed. Dimitri tells me again that all I can do is send it in for service and wait up to 2 weeks. I explain that I am not Belgian, and I am leaving the country permanently in 2 weeks and that I do not have a fixed address to send the new iPod to. He still says this is the only way to get it fixed. He tells me he could swap the iPod immediately if he “wanted to be a nice guy” but that he just couldn’t do that. At this point, I raise my voice at him and tell him this is pathetic customer service and that they are selling Apple products so they have to follow Apple return policies. He says he is going to report me to Apple for customer abuse.

At this time, there are also about 7 other customers in the store, all listening to the crap coming out of Master of Customer Service Dimitri’s mouth. Eventually, they all leave and buy nothing. You would have thought at this point he would come around but he still sticks to his ground – trying to fuck me around and rip me off. So I say, fine. I’ll call Apple. He says, “Go on then!” I ask for the number, and he gives it to me.

I spend the next 45 minutes on the telephone speaking to a helpful guy at Apple who takes all the information down and gives me some options to get a replacement iPod. He says he could courier me an iPod but it could take 7+ days to arrive – but I am moving out of our rented studio in 8 days. He tells me that, indeed, IT Pro are an authorised Apple reseller and should adhere to Apple policies. He says I should either get a new iPod on the spot, or my money refunded. He says he would be reporting the incident to the powers that be at Apple, and made a case note for Dimitri to look at and said I should now be able to get my money back.

So we tell this Dimitri fellow what Apple has told me and he still says that they can’t help me in any way! Also, while I was on the phone he was taking numerous photos of the iPod which he also said didn’t need to be replaced because “it wasn’t broken”. He goes on to tell me that now that I’ve made a case note with that serial number and my name against it, that he definitely can’t give me my money back. Eventually, he goes upstairs to call who I can only assume was his manager or the owner. He has a rather heated discussion – none of which I can hear or decipher with my crappy grasp of the Dutch language.

Another few minutes pass and he comes downstairs. He says that actually, now that there is a case note he can give us the money back. We have now spent one hour in the store on my birthday. He grumpily gives us the money back and we leave the store.

We walk down the road to FNAC, which is a Belgian chain department store that sells electronics and books. We explain the situation to the information guy and ask if we buy one from FNAC if we could open the packaging before we leave the store and check for the defect. He says, sure. We end up opening two boxes because the first also had the same manufacturing problem. Luckily, the third iPod of the day was relatively okay and I left the store a happy birthday girl with a new iPod. Thanks, Robin!

Moral of the (very long) story: Do not buy anything from IT Pro, ever. They have the worst customer service I have ever had the misfortune of experiencing – and that includes the notoriously shitty Micro Anvika in Selfridges. I wonder if this is what you get by trying to support small local businesses, as my boyfriend had gone into FNAC and considered getting the iPod there, but went to IT Pro instead.

Also, Dimitri from IT Pro is not a nice guy. In fact, he is a fucking rude cunt.

Uncategorized — No Comments
10
Feb 06

Garfield Is Actually Funny

In reality, Garfield is one of the worst comic strips ever. It is boring and Garfield pisses me off. He’s just so annoying! So what happens when you remove all of his thought bubbles? It becomes a great comic strip!

It reminds me of me and my cat far too much.

Check out more here.

Uncategorized — No Comments
9
Feb 06

Four Things

I just can’t, I just can’t, I just can’t stop the meme.

Four jobs I’ve had
McDonald’s “chef”
Paint can label sticker onner
Petroleum transfer technician
Indie publishing company assistant

Four movies I can watch over and over
Labyrinth
Zoolander
The Royal Tenebaums
Tonari no Totoro

Four places I’ve lived
Wellington, New Zealand
Austin, Texas
Houston, Texas
Manchester, England

Four TV shows I love
Lost
24
Friends
Any documentary

Four places I’ve had a holiday
Antwerp, Belgium
Venice, Italy
Monte Carlo, Monaco
Melbourne, Australia

Four of my favorite dishes
Tom Ga Kai
Sushi
Roast lamb and vegetables
Vegetarian couscous

Four sites I visit daily
Humhum
Consumating
The Superficial
A super secret place

Four places I would rather be right now
At a cafe in Wellington drinking a latte
On a beach somewhere like Rarotonga
In an amazing bed like at the Westin Hotel in Fort Worth
Somewhere where it isn’t winter!

Four bloggers I am tagging
Elyse Sewell
Maya
Penny
Gala

Uncategorized — 2 Comments
8
Feb 06

Geezie Chreezie, I’m Getting Old

It was my birthday on the 31st of January. I turned 26. Happy birthday me!

I know 26 isn’t old at all, unless I compare it to being 18. When you’re 18, 26 seems like a long time away and also seems kinda old. However, the problem is that I still feel 18 but I no longer look how I did when I was 18 and I still feel that 26 is kinda old.

I guess I always figured that by around 26 I’d have a career of my choosing (not the one you fall into), I’d own a home, I’d be married, and I’d be thinking about having kids in the near future. The problem being that I’m actually divorced (although in a relationship with a wonderful boy for the past 2 years), I own sweet-fuck-all (because I keep moving countries and selling all my possessions), and I’m currently unemployed (have been living in Belgium for the past 2+ months as a tourist on my way back to New Zealand). To be honest, I’m not worried about the marriage thing at all, but it shits me that I don’t own a home. If only I’d had the foresight to buy in Wellington before I left because now housing prices have more than doubled. Bummer. I blame that fucking Peter Jackson fellow.

The real reasons I feel old are:

  • I get tired early
  • I have a bad back
  • I have been noticing wrinkles
  • I have suddenly sprouted child-birthing hips, even though I’ve resembled Nicole Ritchie’s best-toothbrush-gagging-friend all my life

To combat these symptoms, I pump myself full of mind-altering drugs, convince myself I’m going to do Pilates and Tae-Bo, buy special eye creams, and wail at my reflection. What else can you do.

Anyway, so my birthday was actually pretty good. Peter bought me a white 30GB video iPod (completely unexpected, although accompanied by big drama at the store which I will write about later because it deserves its own post), as well as Animal Crossing for my DS (best game in the history of the universe) and some other smaller things. Peter’s mum sung me happy birthday in English over the telephone, which was really sweet. Instead of going out for my birthday, I asked him to cook for me at home instead and requested his delicious Thai spicy chicken soup. Mmm-mmm! My friends Natalie and Mark who live in London came to Antwerp for the weekend too, which was really fun. It was nice to speak with someone who speaks English as a first language. All around, it was a most excellent birthday.

Now I just need to work on not turning 27 for my birthday next year.

Uncategorized — 6 Comments
6
Feb 06

YES, THINGS DO NOT WORK

I’m in the middle of updating the CMS.

Update! 7 Feb 2006
Most things are working now. Now I have the arduous task of going through all previous entries to ensure they show correctly. Ack.

If you see anything that isn’t working properly or just looks weird, please either post a comment or send me an email. Thanks!