I drove for 9 hours today, by myself. I managed to get a speeding ticket, and become deliriously tired. I took photos of random things that all turned out crap. All day I listening to songs D burned for me. I am now obsessed with The Roots. They are most excellent.
I am now staying with
The other night I had a dream that my mum sold mine and my boyfriends car to some person without telling us. I was having a massive spew at her and asking (screaming) where my boyfriends $15,000 is. She was like, oh yes dear, oh I dont know dear and it made me mental. I was yelling so hard I couldnt yell anymore. Then my boyfriend woke me up as he came to bed and went to give me cuddles. I yelled at him and told him not to touch me because I was so pissed off at my mother.
In a dream.
The other day, I was getting lunch at Mojo on Willis Street with Penny. I ordered a latté and an apple and cinnamon muffin. As I do this, the following comes out of my mouth:
“Because I like muff-in my mouth.”
I forgot that dirty lesbian jokes are really only funny with friends, not random baristas whom you don’t know.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck me, the host of Intellectual Property, some bint called Camilla, is not only a terrible music show host but has the single most annoying voice on television.
This is me at 14. Check out:
Finally, I can say I have a job. I just accepted a position where I am an independent contractor and finally earning some dosh. About time, I say.
Without sounding too much like a twat, I have to say I can’t believe how long it’s taken for me to be offered a job. I don’t suck by any standards, in fact, I’m ace. I’ve been to about six interviews, and many more agency ones. I spent the majority of last week going to interviews, and because I’m a wanker in a suit and heels I now have blisters all over my toes. It’s band-aid city in my shoes right now.
I went to a few really awful interviews – there was the one where the interviewer didn’t show up, but that was lucky because when I was waiting in reception I was thinking, “Like fuck if I’m going to work here.” There was the one where as soon as I met the interviewer I could tell that he didn’t like me. There was the agency interview that had booked me in on the wrong day (even though I confirmed the date and time back to her on the phone) and took 3.5-hours. At least this time I didn’t fall for any AMWAY-esque people and end up in a room full of freaks telling me about the crocodile-dog animals found (or not so much) in the hills of New Zealand.
All going well, I will start at the end of this week. I have to become GST registered, hire an accountant, and catch a bus to work every day. I guess that is better than not, especially seeing how winter is heading my way and I can no longer sit on the balcony at all hours of the day anyway (although as I write this, I am sitting on the balcony, drinking tea and smoking a cigarette, watching the cars drive past and appreciating the clear blue sky while my fingers become stiff and cold).
Congratulations me!
When I was 15/16, I had a friend called Jake. He was one of my best friends. He was four years older than me. We used to get boozed together (although usually he got IDed and denied and I’d get in, surprisingly). He taught me which bars would let underage drinkers in, where I could buy $10 kamikaze shakers, and how to stay warm at the train station when you’d missed the last train (newspapers). He was my one of my 6th Form photography subjects, my buddy, and my confidant (and possibly a bad influence [not really]).
Before I turned 17, he moved to the deep south (Otago). I didn’t see him while he studied at university, I didn’t see him when he met his massively long-term girlfriend, I didn’t see him before I left New Zealand. In fact, the last time I saw him was 1996. We tried to stay in contact over the years, but lost touch over the last four or five years.
Last night I was thinking about Jake. So I Googled his name and found an email address that I thought could possibly belong to him, even though it was for a person that was living in Wellington when the last I heard he was living in Dunedin. So I sent an email late last night. Today, when I got home from my day of interviews, I opened up my email client to find an email from him confirming that yes, I had actually found him and how the fuck did I manage to do so. We emailed back and forth and decided to meet up for dinner and drinks tonight.
We talked about what we’d each been doing for the past ten years. We reminisced about people we were friends with ten years ago who’s real names we can’t remember but who had nicknames such as Splat, Crumpy, and Skinner. We talked about meeting up again.
In short, it was fucking awesome. Jake is a wonderful person whom I have missed for ten years, and by chance happens to be again living in the city that I also happen to be living in again, and whom Google magically brought us together again. Google, I thank thee!
Today I had lunch at a café called Astoria on Lambton Quay. It is the sort of café that is full of suits discussing interesting things such as quarterly financial figures and annual projections. Anyway, I was outside giving myself cancer and the jitters when I saw a cute little sparrow on the ground next to me. This cute little sparrow looked up at me with a sad face saying, please give me some of your delicious blueberry muffin that you aren’t going to eat. So I break off a few bits and drop them on the ground next to me. The cute little sparrow gobbled them thankfully, and looked up at me as if to ask for more. So I say out-loud, “You’ll have to eat it out of my hand.” I break off a little piece and hold it towards the cute little sparrow who flies up to my hand, hovers in mid-air and bites the muffin out of my fingers. He does this a couple of times before I tell him out-loud, “Why don’t you come sit on the back of this chair here and I’ll feed you some more.” So the cute little sparrow flies up to the back of the chair, and sits there until I give him some more muffin. He eats a couple of muffin pieces out of my hand and then flies down to the ground. He looks at me again with his cute little sparrow face and I tell him out-loud, “Okay, come back up here but this is the last piece.” So he flies up to the back of the chair, I offer him a small chunk of muffin which he takes in his beak and flies off around the corner, never to be seen again.
Seriously. I am fucking Doctor Doolittle!
I had an interview today at 10am. I was planning on catching the bus to the train station and then walking up to interview which would take about another 10 minutes. I walked down to the bus stop and saw the bus pulling up when I was on the other side of the busy 4-land road. I missed it. The next bus that stopped wasn’t going to the train station. I realised if I waited for the next bus I would be late, so I quickly walked back home, went upstairs, got the car key, came downstairs to the garage, and drove across town. When I got there, I realised there was no parking in the area of the company, so I parked on the other side of the highway and walked back to the business district. When I finally arrived at the interview, I was told that the woman was actually off sick today and hadn’t told anyone she was interviewing me. So I walked back to the car on the other side of the highway and drove back through town to go home. I took off my suit, changed clothes, and got back into bed.