I ate a bag of chips

I really should've bought a damn sandwich, but instead what I did for lunch was eat a mango, then eat an illicit bag of thin cut salt and vinegar chips.
Now my tongue is sore and I am HANGRY!

What will I do?!

As days off go...

Ferris Bueller has NOTHING on me!

I was feeling rubbish yesterday so had an afternoon on the couch.
I ate a vege curry pie from the 4 square, 4 Reese's peanutbutter cups, drank 1 can of apple and lime fresh up, and watched 'Scott and Charlene Love Story' Neighbours montage video.

It was amazing.
Although there wasn't enough Mike Young scenes in the neighbours video. Or Mrs Mangle. But I love Mike the most...

MmmmMike

Give me your plaster foot - apparently it is a metaphor for how's your father

Oh hurrah, the award for Bad Sex in Fiction has been awarded, to none other than the sister of the Mayor of London. She's thrilled.

I thoroughly recommend having a read of the extracts, they're wonderfully awful.

I hope one day to write a truly, artfully dreadful bit of fictional sex. I've never heard the term "gribbly nipple" before, and thank you very much David Mitchell for sharing it with the world. I'm enthralled by Julia Glass' inability to make a metaphoric decision, thus "She closed her eyes again and let herself sink further down, or come more fully to the surface, she wasn't sure which ...". And the image of an old Scottish woman struggling 'out of a series of cardigans' is possibly the greatest turn-off image since Wayne Campbell and Garth Algar's Margaret-Thatcher-naked-on-a-cold-day.

One day I hope to write bad fictional sex well enough to win a plaster foot trophy of my own.

I guess I'm just a dreamer...

I will give you my money if you ask me correctly

In the last 24 hours, I have been chugged 3 times, with varying levels of success.

Chug number one: I’m walking back to work from my Maori lesson, and this sweet young gothy/emo type chugger comes up to me he’s all greasy black hair and piercings, but he’s a very chipper young man, and knows a lot about his charity of choice. I decline to make a commitment to a monthly donation, but listen to his tales of what their schemes are, and vow to make a donation the next time people are out collecting. He thanks me for my time, and we wish each other a good day. Nice.

Chug number two: a little drunk, but just a little mind, I wander home yesterday evening to find my flatmate sitting one the porch with a couple of Greenpeacers, who instantly say “Would you like to join Greenpeace?”. My instant reaction of Fuck Off is stifled by the thought that they might be my flatmate’s friends, in which case I’d rather not be rude. Turns out these dudes had just wandered onto our lawn off the street. Assholes.
I made a monthly donation to Greenpeace for about 3 years. That should let me off the hook FOREVER.

Chug the third: I took a different way to work this morning, and saw some people on Manners Mall collecting for some charity (can’t remember which one, Unicef maybe), and giving out water as well. I was miles away from them, but I really wanted a bottle of water. I decide to keep going, as there’s usually another collector not too far away. I get to Willis St before I see another one, and they stop me and ask if I’d like to donate. The guy who stopped me is a cute English boy, physically reminiscent of Look Around You’s Peter Serafinowicz, who explained to me where my money would be going. I chatted to him for a bit, he complimented me on my generosity and wished me “a very nice day”. Lovely.


Winner: Unicef, or whoever they were, and their attractive and polite chuggers, and their promises of free treats.
Loser: Greenpeace. Honestly Greenpeace, fuck you.
And then the other dude was very nice, and I will give you some money some day.

Meanwhile I will continue to lie to most chuggers I meet. It's just the kind of person I am.

Such a terrible mess

Today I am cleaning my desk!
It's very important, because it was very messy. As displayed above!

This is what, in the "art world", we know as a Bird's Eye View.
If a bird ever flew through my office I would be very impressed ("how did a bird get up here? Did it take the elevator? Give that bird a medal, it's an avian hero!") and also very embarrassed by what it would think of my desk...
Shame my name.

Stealing to be cooler

I know, I'm a goober.
A thieving goober.
Just to emphasise y thievery, here is a perfect summation that I have stolen from my dear friend Nell:
"I am a huge dork. That takes up most of my time."

I get the rss feed of Dinosaur Comics everyday to my emails, and today there was a link to Juice Box Dot Com
And on Juice Box they do a Worst Mondays and Best Fridays thing.
And I wanna do it, cos I wanna be on juice box.
But I'm never gonna be on juice box.
Wah. Cry.
So I'm gonna do it here, thiefstyles:

Worst Monday:

Worst day-job
I guess it was the supermarket, though I didn't really hate it too bad. Although I'm slightly scarred, and couldn't stand to go into the places for a few years. Soul sucking nothingness is the core of supermarket human resources

Worst haircut
I've had some shockers, but they've always been only a little bit off. The little boy haircut I had when I was 10 was a mistake. And the blue hair dye that turned my hair actually grey was a bit of a downer, though incredibly funny for anyone that wasn't me.

Worst subculture
I don't know if there is a real subculture label for them, but people who read lolcats and then talk about them with others. "Hey, did you see that lolcat today, wasn't it amazing?" Fuck you, read a comic.

Worst date
Hrm. Umm. My boyfriend and I were approaching break-up point as it was, and he got out The Butterfly Effect for us to watch on "date night". We got 20 minutes in and I freaked out. We broke up the next day. Thanks, Ashton Kutcher.

Worst invention
Christmas.

Worst purchase
The two saris I bought in India this year. Even though the combined cost was probably less than $20, I will NEVER EVER WEAR THEM. Guaranteed.

Worst way to die
Overheating. Oh god that'd be terrible.

Best Friday:

Best injury
Taking a tumble from a ten foot wall at the age of 4 was pretty badass of me, especially because I SURVIVED. And now I have a wicked, non-disfiguring scar!

Best historical figure
Elizabeth Bathory. What an evil bitch. Bathing in the blood of virgins. You freak me out lady!!!

Best shirt
Oh, it's my Nick Cave tour t-shirt that I can't wear because it is too tiny, but I love to know it is there. I'm gonna turn it into a cushion one of these days and then I will cuddle it

Best thing to do with $20
2 bottles of Corbs and a walk to Mike's house

Best party trick
Being incredibly convivial and not remember a single embarrassing thing that you did

Best monster
There is no Dana. Only Zuul.

Best question ever asked of you in an interview. Now answer it:
Pfft, I've never been interviewed... Well, I have, but nothing springs to mind. What a downer.

on buying The Boosh for the second time

Two years ago I had surgery to remove precancerous cells from my cervix.
(already this is an excellent story)
In my convalescence, my friend Dave lent me series 1 and 2 of the Mighty Boosh, and I promptly fell in love.
With someone else's, maybe my mum's, maybe Robert's, credit card, I bought my own copies of The Mighty Boosh series 1 and 2 from amazon. Dot co, dot ewe kay.

I have watched the shit out of those dvds.

This morning I'm looking at my gmails, and I see that I can preorder the COMPLETE mighty boosh series 1, 2 and 3, at a 26% discount from amazon etc. It has heaps of awesome extra shiz with it, like stickers. 25 pounds and 98 pence, rather than 34.99.

I actually, genuinely have to buy this.

Being the opportunist that I am, I look to see what other bargains I can get. Lo and behold, if I buy the Boosh book at the same time it'll only cost me 33 pounds and and 97 pence FOR THEM BOTH.
This is way too much of a bargain. I am genuinely salivating.

On to my trusted currency converter, and I see that 33 pounds and 97 pence converts to about 90 NZD.
$90.
More than the price of my prescription sunglasses, although that is it's own unique bargain.

Plus I can tack on the Mighty Boosh 2009 calendar for only 4 pounds and 99 pence.

I did some quick maths. With the discounts and the buying-them-together and all that other malarchy, I'm saving 24 pounds on a purchase I would most definitely have otherwise made.

This is absurd. I'm buying it right now. I'll just pretend my brain works in pounds...

Boosh party at my house, just as soon as that shiz arrives... Oh yeah, Christmas present to myself...

Damn the fact I really need a new laptop...

The shiz you find when you clean

I love Hatupatu's rock
The last time I went there was with Jonno after the Maori Queen's tangi in 2006.
That's AGES ago.
I don't know when I drew this little thing. Must've been in a meeting or something.


This is a very good read, from Australia, about our election

Decision 08

I'm not really going to go into it...

My highlights of the TV3 coverage of the 2008 NZ election were:

• John Campbell calling Steve Maharey a "sexy bugger"
• John Campbell calling Peter Dunne a "Noddy No-Mates"
• John Campbell calling Matthew Hooton a "shit stirrer"

I really love John Campbell. I'd vote for him if he ever ran.

Next time I will be more aware and more strategic in my electorate voting. Luckily others were wiser than me. Thanks, others.


I think I would like a dog. One day.
I will call her "Reginald", or possibly "Clovis", depending on the level of her vanity.
Maybe I would have a male dog. Unlikely.

Boom! and also Bang! and also Bill! oh, and, Barack!

I don't really give a shit about Guy Fawkes day.
I like the story about the guys and the dynamite.
But, fireworks, meh.
Not crazy about them.

Except, that every year, on about November the 4th, right up until 8pm on November the 5th, I start to feel some kind of horrible obligation towards them... Like, if I don't pay attention to them, somehow they will be gone forever. My apathy will get them banned.

So last night, all high and mighty and excited about my boyfriend, Barack, getting himself a nice big new house, I ummed and ahhed about heading up to one of the parties I'd been invited to so I could get a nice little Fizz! Pop! Purple! Green! buzz going on.

Know what I did instead?

Here's what I did instead:

I ate WAY too much dinner;
And: I watched Ghostbusters;
And: It was pretty sweet.

*punctuation overload*

Bill Murray is awesome, isn't he?
"I find her interesting because she's my client and because she sleeps above the covers. Four feet above the covers"
Egon Spengler is pretty wild. AND he gets the girl. Well, a girl. But that girl is Annie Potts. Annie Potts is a righteous babe.
Dan Akroyd is a'ight too I spose. Ok, he's great.
Oh, and Winston is fly as. He's seen things that would turn you white.

I am very pleased that homeboy is the new prez. He's amazing. And not unhot.

Shook it up...

Bah-doom-doom-doom-doom-doom-doom-doom-dah...

This is incredible. Chairs made out of cans. INCREDIBLE:
They're super tiny, for a dolls house styles.
I almost bought a dolls house at Miramar North school gala on Saturday, but Robert dissuaded me...

I didn't spend any money yesterday. Not any. Today I have a deep desire to buy new jeans. I'll think about it tomorrow...

Also:

Dear Leonard Cohen,
Hi! How are you? Long time no listen. Couple weeks maybe.
Oh, I've listened to Anthony's version of "If it be you will" once or twice I think.
But not your dulcet tones.
I hear you're coming over next year! That's very exciting for you! Ever been to NZ before?
It's a pretty nice place.
Some of my friends have already bought tickets.
Leonard, I know that it is your job and whatnot.
And I know that we all need to make money.
But Leonard - $170 a ticket?
I thought you were a Buddhist?
Leonard, I'm a bit put off I must say.
Bob Dylan was only $106.75.
And he's BOB DYLAN.
I know, I know, you're Leonard Cohen.
But, if I don't see you when you're here, have a good trip.
Don't fuck it up.
Mariskahargitay
Swami Ma Puawānanga xo

Nick Cave sings Suzanne better, I think.

C'mon Morrissey, confirm your dates bro!

Pie

"Would you like a pie?"

Man I loves me some pie. I'm supposed to make one tonight, but might just take back-up-frozen-quiche along to this latest of pot lucks instead. Not that I am too lazy, just that I don't have time... Haha, excuses, excuses...

I made a spinach and cottage cheese pie a few weeks ago, and I surprised even myself! It was so awesome.
Tonight I was planning on a silverbeat and mushroom extravaganza. That'd be the awesomest.

Savoury is far superior to sweet. Although I did eat some awesome free gateau today. Gateau should always be free.

The new Brideshead Revisited movie is pretty good. I approve. And I also heart'd the new Coen brothers one, Burn After Reading. Brad Pitt is comedy gold, he's wasted in serious flicks.

In other news, my flat throws excellent parties. I feel positive for the future.

What? Ten dollars!

At least I can be mildly sure that a bottle of Corbans White Label from Patels Superette will ALWAYS cost $9.90, no matter how many stockmarkets go for a bit of a crash.

I'm glad I don't have any money to begin with.

If you find yourself too worried about stuff and things and all the rubbish that goes on in this silly little circle we live on, have a play on this: www.thisissand.com

Man I'm keen for an egg sandwich... I should just go get one... Although it might ruin my tea...

Enid

Jonny? Are you there, Jonny? Hello? I've got that album to give back to you, and I would like some Mitch Hedberg for my iPod please!

I bought an iPod. All $400 of it for all 120gbs of her. Mmm, delicious. She is called Enid, and she is currently gobbling up some Smiths from m'iTunes.

So, these morning walks of mine are getting more and more frequent. I actually think it is as a result of m'booze habits. Y'know, how they're all, like, daily.
Anyways, mixing beer and wine is, after all, a bad idea, so I should just suck it up and go "bad idea" instead of "ahh, good idea, I do need another drink!"

But the morning walks are nice. It'd be even nicer if I could take on of the dogs, but I can't take Penny or Bunky to work.

Mmm, today at work I get to write about comics. For work. This is almost as good as the time I got paid to read Hairy Maclary

A Terrific Hon

Can I have a gold medal?

I'm winning today. I know, it's only 8.30am! How can I be winning, you ask?
Thusly:

The combination of Wine and Beer - specifically Wine then Beer then more Wine, makes me a right drunkard, and causes me to wake up at 4 in the morning. Oh, what a drag! You think to yourself. Well, no. I wake feeling incredibly well rested, albeit hungover, and have learnt to harness this pre-emptive biological alarm clock in the stables of my advantage.
This morning I spent the hours between 4 and sunrise, which is a bit before 6, reading The Pursuit of Love by Nancy Mitford, which is always a great delight, and thinking of funny things to tell my friends. Of course, as happens whenever I entrench myself in the world of the Mitfords, I start coming up with lists in my head of people who I know who are Terrific Hons or Frightful Counter-Hons. Of course, it is possible for a terrific hon to do something frightfully counter-honnish, but that's another story for another.

So I hopped myself out of bed a little after 6, had an excellent shower, and listened to some really old Marianne Faithful while I got dressed.
Then out of the gate, and off for a walk (though without Hairy Maclary from Donaldson's dairy).

I enjoy walking through schools when they're empty. Luckily, there is one right behind my house that is perfect for walking through, especially since there's a lovely path that goes straight from my letterbox to the school's back entrance.
A few houses along from me lives one of those aged goths that Aro Valley is littered with. You know the ones I mean: balding - but what hair remains is kept long - computer geeks with long vinyl trench coats, who are devoted to Anne Rice, Douglas Adams and their extensive Sisters of Mercy vinyl collection, and who will argue to the death that Your Funeral My Trial is a better album than Henry's Dream, even though they're wrong.
Yeah, one of them.
Anyway, he emerged from his abode roughly the same time as me, and I had a good time skipping colourfully ahead of him.
It's a squishy morning out there, so crossing Boyd Wilson Field and Kelburn Park were very much a stick-to-the-path affairs. I got to the top of that hill that slopes down to the rose gardens - having been nosed at by a handful of happy dogs - in full sunshine, despite the rolly, rumbly looking clouds that were hanging over the Rimutakas.
There's a quite excellent desire line that runs down the hill from the street onto the main concrete path, but in this muddy morning it was easiest to walk on the grass just to the side of the desire line.
The rose bushes are all pruned and ready for spring to really get sprung. In the little edge gardens there are some lovely, optimistic poppies, valiantly braving the wind. I adore poppies They're so fragile, but so bright and cheery. I especially loved the orange ones that grew in the secret garden I had last year... I miss my secret garden...
So down into the main part of the garden, to say hello to the ducks, who will think me an absolute rotter for not bringing any bread - and check on the tulips.
Jonno will think me a traitor, but I also spent much time admiring the daffodils.
Then back up past the rose gardens, and down through Bolton St Cemetery, which I love.

As I was walking up the terrace towards my final destination, work, I thought how nice it would be to find the time to do that most mornings. And then I remembered that I usually start work at 10am.
So, totally doable.

Ooh, ooh, and I saw Jim Bolger, and MAN does he look old! He was wearing nice little black gloves.

I get a lot of treats

I got an excellent lunchtime trip to the op shops today. Karori and Tawa. I only bought 2 things, but it was worth it. Dog walking hoodie and a pink string bag. Look out, Penny-the-dog, me and my string bag are gonna take you for a walk!

My new house is magnificent. Although I really need furniture. But I managed to get my rekkid player working last night after I thought it was dying. Bit of a Bob Dylan festival, followed by some Spandau Ballet. Gold! Always believe in your soul!

Tonight is Bill Bailey with Hannah. Yhuss. I'm so glad I made her let me buy tickets way-back-when. And I'm glad that the cold-I-thought-I-had turned out to be a bad mood. A bad mood which has since passed. Oh yeah...

Robert bought a wedding dress today for something like $5 at the Karori sallies. I'm gonna see if it fits and wear it to the Boston Hate Collective party on Saturwa...

Oh, and I've begun my experiment, and it's going fine, but there's nothing much to say about it except I thought it would be harder...

kiss kiss

Big load of not a whole bunch

Here are some facts:

• I went on holiday, to India, then London, then Massachusetts. There is no odd-one-out.
• I'm moving into a rad new house, and they might give me a lap top for free
• I'm not pregnant

That last one doesn't really mean anything, it's just that it's a fact when so many things are not facts.

I've had three things published on the history website I work on for-a-job, and 1 thing rejected.
Here are the things:
http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/timeline/22/6
http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/timeline/28/8 http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/media/photo/hairy-maclary

And, as per usual, I'm fine thanks, how are you?



I very much love this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMKoLsA38KE
Oh, and I'm about to undertake a massive experiment, which I shall attempt to chronicle. If there's anyone out there...

Obviously I don't take this very seriously

Whoopsy. S'been an age. Although I don't think anyone reads this... Excellent...

I am 24 years old now. Grown up. Now, when I make decisions I will stick to them, and when I make rice it will not stick to the pan.

King of Sammidge

Hi.
I had a really nice sandwich for lunch.

In the wake of the wonderful I'm Fucking Matt Damon, and the brilliant follow up "I'm Fucking Ben Affleck, I don't recommend the paltry I'm Fucking Seth Rogen. It is not as good, no, it is not.

Gah, Christopher Hitchens. What an old bore. He and Stephen Fry debating blasphemy is here

Oh, man, I have a gig tonight. Nerves.

I may be a colossal failure...

I'm gonna make up my own psychometric testing results. I've never done a psychometric test before, so I wouldn't know what the real results would look like. I assume they would look like this:

Jean Sergent, strengths and weaknesses:
Strengths:

• Nice
• Knows a thing or two
• Not psychotic

Weaknesses:

• Indecisive
• Slow on the uptake
• Easily distracted

That Facebook compare people application is doing my head in. Every day I get emails telling me I'm the best singer my friends know, but that I have a crap profile picture. So strange and meaningless. And yet, I shall not delete the application, because it is fun to compare my friends.
SO, if I'm gonna be happily comparing my friends, I must be content to be compared by them. Obviously. I really didn't need that capital so.

Also, I got one email saying that a friend had been comparing me, and that I'd been voted funnier than Hone Kouka

I have to change my gmail signature. For AGES now it has been "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go on an overnight drunk, and in 10 days I'm going to set out to find the shark that ate my friend and destroy it. Anyone who wants to tag along is more than welcome."
- Steve Zissou
But I think that's getting a little embarrassing...
Howevs, I have no imagination for new options.
Perhaps:

• Oh, Maneesha!
• Non-Stop Dancer
• If there's one thing I can't bear, it's when hundreds of old men come creeping in through the window in the middle of the night and throw all manner of garbage over me. I can't bear that.

Mmm, lists. I love a list, me.

She has a name, mother - and it's "Mother"

Easter. Why would ya?

Now, that's not fair. I've had a lovely time so far.

But there's one more whole day to fill with anti-work, and all I can think of doing is working OR nowt. Nowt is winning the race so far.

What kind of blog will this be?

What kind of question is that? Bleugh!

My mum gave me herbal licorice for Easter. I thought that was amazing of her. I'm not crazy about chocolate, although I do like a cream egg. Oh yes. 

What I need is a holiday 'pon which the giving of quiche is the accepted tradition.

Shrove Tuesday has it's place on account of all the pancakes.

For Lent I gave up saying the alphabet backwards. That'll be the first thing I do come morning.

Trips to the library

I finally paid my library fines last week - I couldn't let that $18.60 stunt my growth a second longer - and it felt soooo goooood to walk home with aching shoulders from a bag full of book, cds, dvds and magazines.
At my trip last week I was issued with:
20th Century Eightball by Daniel Clowse
The Quitter by Harvey Pekar
Revolution by Margaret Cho
That Mitchell and Webb Sound
Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency by Douglas Adams
Essentially a coupla big comic books, a coupla comedy cds, and a, well, Douglas Adams book. That I haven't started yet.

Margaret Cho is fucking awesome. it's true that my appreciation of the word "pussy" has increased over the last couple of years, but that my appreciation for the short form of "puss" could exist at all is near on a miracle. witness the greatness.

Went to the lib again yesty, and came away with A History of God, that my rad friend Phil recommended to me. It's by a lady that was gonna be a nun until she realised she wasn't really that big of a Christian... Haven't started it yet, I'll let you know.

And then TODAY I went back AGAIN! Addict, sis. Got a bunch of musics and poetries, but also got an issue of the feminist pop culture magazine Bitch. There's an article in this issue that is a response to that pompous arse Christopher Hitchens mouthing off in Vanity Fair about how women aren't funny. What? Women aren't funny? I know! Sisters are hilarious! But Hitch got a bee in his bonnet/carrot up his ass/whores to pay, and decided to derive the spurious assertion that a woman's ultimate destiny to procreate prevents her from being funny. Yeah. Whatevs, hitch. You have too much money for being a nob.
I should probably articulate some kind of response, but instead... Well... Loads of people posit the view that women aren't funny, or rather, "aren't as funny as men". Balls. Women have less of a powerful presence in the comedy world, but it's the same story in all creative fields. It's true! But unlike, say, playwrights, girls who do comedy have a much smaller chance to prove themselves funny than a dramatis-personae-wielding dame has to prove herself able to construct a theme, form a plot, write dialogue.
I'd say give a funny sister a break, but instead I reckon y'all give a funny sister a listen. In fact, give a bunch of them a watch

I feel like a glass of wine. That's what three nights without a drop will do to you.