manly hugs and chick fights

the usual saturday night then ... Started out late last night, met up with karaoke buddy and the Maori-Samoan dream team who hadn't see for ages, W - the Maori half was also very excited to see me, and I was crushed for some minutes against the wall with him. Unfotunately for me they love to drink in the rugby head bar ... which makes me feel tiny and somewhat out of place. But as if rugbyheads were bad enough, women who fetishise the hegemonic masculinty represented by the various 1st XVs in attendance are far worse. Yappy ageing chihuahua lady started hitting on the Maori half of the afore-mentioned team, and karaoke buddy made it worse by telling her to move away. Ended up Samoan landed a few good punches on the chihuahua snout before I stepped in as the human wall. The chihuahua yapped and yapped until we left. And then tried to follow us to another bar to continue the fight.

Hurray for rugby.

this is the one that we played at assembly ...

Last night I went to my first school dance ... that is if you don't count the 'Disco for Kampuchea' that Jane Kaeshagen and I organised in Grade 7. Actually, it wasn't a school dance it was a real gig at 'the tummy', the all ages venue here in the 'Grad.

Days gone by I used to go see my friends' bands. The D4, Hustler, Glam R Us. Now I go to my friends' kids' bands. Still it was pretty awesome and like being at High School. The Semi Automatics opened for a couple of older bands, but there was still a see of emos all throwing their goats as if NCEA depended upon it. And the lead singer, pretty charismatic for a 16yr old really did intro one of the songs with the title of today's post. So cute... except for the girls screaming 'Oh.My.God. everytime one of their little friends arrived.

I'd like to link you, but they appear to be the only band that aren't on myspace.

Unfortunately one of the other adult team was this really creepy French guy who appears to spend too much time at home. It was like he had never seen women before. He was also amazed that I had no idea how much baby sitting cost. But why the fuck would I? I have a day job.

So well anyway, cleaning the house can no longer

I trust you have been talking among yourselves ...

while I have been in communicado ... or should that read while I have been a moody bastard?

Apart from a dash down to the big city where I celebrated the lovely E.B's birthday with 3 delicious cakes with my friends AbD and Matty B among others, life has been one long festival of shite. Since blogging, drinking, misbehaving and have one's own opinion is strictly ix-nay at my workplace I can't fill you in on that ... so you are saved from reading a long and heartfelt whine ...

So what have I been doing? Apart from the big Ws whining and working? Not a fuck of a lot. Certainly not gardening. I did pay my electricity bill twice on the same day, giving me a whopping great early payment discount this time round! And I undertook shopping therapy. I meant to buy shoes, but came away with pants and a shirt which I now have to wrap round my feet for sins, which is exactly what you should do with woollen trousers, eh?

I have been reading Herodotus - father of history, or so his agent says, - but not in any English Patient-y sort of a way, but because it is the closest I have come to reading fiction after Lucy Ellmann disappointed me with Doctors and Nurses.

Later tonight I will be going out in my new pants. I rarely go out pantless, but this will be their public debut. I am celebrating that a friend has got a job in a real city. She however is less celebrating and more freaking out. Needless to say I will be sad to see her go, and since she is my going out buddy? accomplice? it now dawns on me I may not have needed new pants after all. Or perhaps they will go out and look for friends like the poor empty pants in What was I so scared of?

lotus, mittens, towel

So life had become insane. My clients, my colleagues, my dog .... okay I don't have a dog, but if I did it would have gone insane over the last two week period. So what is a boy to do? Well run away is always a good (grown up) option so I headed for the big city for a .... big city experience.
I cried in the national archives, I got bored at a boring seminar run by Ms Smug Researcher, and got a cold.

I did have though with Melf and Mcdreamy ... dinner, drinks, back home by 10pm.

I actually need a real holiday I think. Not visiting Australia, not the islands ...

Sorry this post is whine, but hell, do what you are good at.

Cardy Rock!

So after a stressful week of co-worker meltdowns and recalitrant 'clients' and computer to owner harrassment, I went out and took Max's advice and drank to kill off the Rennie dreams. Glad that's over, though it now seems that bad dreams are plaguing her ...

Anyways, started out with the historians and ended up with B and P of the Wanganui adventure story. He's an old welly acquaintance so we seem to share a lot more common interests. Ended up seeing the Brunettes. A fine fine band, and many cardy wearers in attendance. Hurrah. They started out life as a retro laden duo - a kind of Carpenters thing with glockenspiels and cute melodies. Surprisingly now they are a swinging six piece, with all but Jonathon guitarist, songwriter and singer swapping instruments all night ... Is that something you should do with a clarinet?

It was nice to be a fan again; looking up on the stage with admiration and excitement. And the bar had gisborne gold on tap. I haven't drunk that beer in years. So nostalgia dressing has deepened into do other nostalgic activities. Perhaps I am having a mild midlife crisis ...

Anyways so Friday night was rocking, and yesterday I could do nothing. I attempted to get cheap fresh vegies from the farmer's market but got bored along the way. Tried shoe-shopping - a desperate joke, and came home and sat on the couch contemplating cleaning, working, tidying and achieved none of those things.

Today I woke early and wandered about, and am now realising that all the love I had for the world has evaporated as it does by this time every sunday and all my best laid plans, like those of humans and rodents, come to naught.

bad dreams in the night

It's like I'm on Lariam again. Nightly I am visited by this crazed woman named Rennie. She's violent and manipulative and well just plain evil. The first dream, started out nice I was visiting my old friend Catherine. Her house turned out to be my apartment in Paris ... of course, and the neighbours across the balcony were this really nice middle aged couple with Australian accents. Rennie, their daughter came to stay and the shouting and screaming started and somehow I was in their apartment and discovered the bodies. Rennie had stabbed them in the bathroom. For some dream-logic reason instead of calling the police she had me cleaning the blood out of the shagpile ... Who puts shagpile in the bathroom? For the last week she has been back in my dreams, and she makes out she is my friend. She follows me to bars, and if I don't pay attention to her she goes off. The other night it ended with her having followed me to a bar dressed in a giant rabbit suit ... not the playboy bunny kind but the full plushie sort. When she wasn't getting noticed she grabbed a bear bottle and bashed her own teeth out. I woke up with the vision of her standing there with blood pulsing out of her mouth and dripping onto the costume matting the fur.

Any Freudians/Jungians out there care to explain? Neatest correct entry wins.