The sort of mild sickness drags on but I'm back to eating chocolate buttons for breakfast so I'm obviously attempting to get back on the horse.
Last night saw me quaff three glasses of wine and a tequila shot before the final of burlesque class. There were eight of us having a few drinks to, ah, well, loosen up, which is probably just as well, seeing as how the end of class had all us standing around in stockings, heels, corsets and knickers, having gleefully peeled off gloves, skirts and shirts. Was hugely entertaining - I can't say I'm the best burlesque dancer, in fact, my shimmies are downright clumsy, but it is indeed a great source of entertainment. Especially when I tried to explain to my Swiss flatmate what titillation was. Sadly we didn't get to the nipple tassle stage, although I gather that comes later if I keep going.
I think I have half gotten the hang of sub-editing. I have a sign on my desk now that reads 'Today is not today' because of my bad habit of not remembering that for some stories, not written by our reporters, changing today to yesterday is very important because we are, of course, playing with tomorrow's news. It can also lead to complete headfuckwittage when it sometimes gets a little complicated - when you throw tomorrows and yesterdays into the bargain and you're tired and forgot to bring your smarts to work.
Right now I have a Ruthie slaving over a hot stove, as is her duty, damnit, as a woman and my oldest friend, and then soon we will be going on a doily hunt - because you can never have enough of those. And as I now have an omlette in front of me I think I'll pay that the attention it deserves. And give the pimple on my chin (why, God, why?) no attention whatsoever.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Not so cutesy but pretty fracking sleepy
It's my own fault. If I will insist on a jetset lifestyle, complete with liquor and hos, and cocktails with live fishies in them, what was I expecting? Of course I'm run down and tired and scratchy with what appears to be a mild dose of adult acne to complete the nastiness. Oh and minus most of my voice. I don't need that. It's a complete waste of time. No one listens to me anyway.
I went to Christchurch. For at least 24.75 hours. I saw a lot of people. I did a lot of talking. A lot of laughing (once again I tried to remember to have a ladylike trill, but I forgot and cackled instead). There was some wine. A trip down memory lane with one of Timmy's KGBs. My teeth hurt a bit from all the sugar after that one. And I left at 11pm because I am old, I was tired and I had a flight to catch the next morning because these days I work on Sundays so I had to be back up here in our nation's beloved capital. I can see my house when I fly into Wellington. That's pretty darn rad.
Ah, yes. Babbling. See, even without a voice I can do this effortlessly. The Chch gang were all good. Appearances were made by people who ought to be in Auckland, Wellington, Melbourne and London, so a good effort on all sides there. There were children, which proves that people have not been letting the grass grow under their feet in the past ten years, since I think the first round of university graduations, but rather have been making hay whilst the sun shines. I am obviously not one of these people, but I kindly allowed Ben and Karen's very charming baby to lick my hands so I could sense what it is like to have one of these 'things'. I did not even try to pick the baby up, mainly because I am sort of possibly flu-ish, but also because I have a fear that I will drop the child. And babies don't bounce.
As far as reunions go, and it is my second one this year, it was pretty ace and I regret that I only see all these people a little more than never or once a year. Fi and I managed cups of tea and cackling/snorting - pick whichever one seems more adult - until 1am and then I had a restless night's sleep, interrupted by Fi's cat. The one that likes to indulge in heavy breathing and walking on boobs.
I got back to Wellington in time for lunch and a flying visit from Bran, who chopped off 6cms of hair, (no one at work noticed) and in return I had Melissa make him crepes. He admired my lack of voice, which does indeed sound like I favour any and all brands of cigarettes, preferably all at once.
Work is mostly good. I managed to misspell siege on Friday night. We were on deadline and I was panicky, but really. Oh Penelope. Just admit you're rubbish. Seige. Siege. Seige. Siege. Don't worry - it didn't make it to print.
I have a workmate who has been at the paper since before I was born. I am at least 15 years younger than all the other subs. Baby. That's me. AND NO ONE PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER. Well, they do. But sometimes I like it that way.
Anyway, this particular reunion made me ponder the past ten years, what others have achieved, and what I have achieved. Let me list these things for you.
Other people sometimes have:
Children
Houses
Pets
Plants they have not neglected and let die
Partners
Assets
Careers
Vegetable gardens
No student loan because they paid it back
No credit card debt because they don't think shoes are a form of religion.
I have:
Shoes, but not nearly enough
An exceptionally lovely vintage full length cream leather jacket that I blew a lot of money on in London and then lost half the buttons off so now I never wear but I think it's an asset of sorts
A broken laptop
A very large student loan
Decent boobs - a natural asset
Credit card debt
A pirate Barbie costume
A lot of books
No plants
Oh, and my looks. They'll never fade, of course.
You might have to reread them a few times but eventually you will see that the lists are slightly different.
I guess a lot of this all comes down to what you want from life and what you consider achievement to be. Different strokes, chaps. And comparing yourself to others, which can be both heartbreaking and exhilarating, is probably not a great idea. Even if it is a great source of entertainment. Reasons why I am glad I am not Amy Winoface and so on.
There are definitely days when I think I have failed miserably at achieving stuff. However, I'm going to go with the rather wanky fact that I'm mostly pretty happy, which I gather not everyone else in the world is (I'm thinking Lindsay Lohan), so I'm going to give me one squillion points just for that. Rad.
I went to Christchurch. For at least 24.75 hours. I saw a lot of people. I did a lot of talking. A lot of laughing (once again I tried to remember to have a ladylike trill, but I forgot and cackled instead). There was some wine. A trip down memory lane with one of Timmy's KGBs. My teeth hurt a bit from all the sugar after that one. And I left at 11pm because I am old, I was tired and I had a flight to catch the next morning because these days I work on Sundays so I had to be back up here in our nation's beloved capital. I can see my house when I fly into Wellington. That's pretty darn rad.
Ah, yes. Babbling. See, even without a voice I can do this effortlessly. The Chch gang were all good. Appearances were made by people who ought to be in Auckland, Wellington, Melbourne and London, so a good effort on all sides there. There were children, which proves that people have not been letting the grass grow under their feet in the past ten years, since I think the first round of university graduations, but rather have been making hay whilst the sun shines. I am obviously not one of these people, but I kindly allowed Ben and Karen's very charming baby to lick my hands so I could sense what it is like to have one of these 'things'. I did not even try to pick the baby up, mainly because I am sort of possibly flu-ish, but also because I have a fear that I will drop the child. And babies don't bounce.
As far as reunions go, and it is my second one this year, it was pretty ace and I regret that I only see all these people a little more than never or once a year. Fi and I managed cups of tea and cackling/snorting - pick whichever one seems more adult - until 1am and then I had a restless night's sleep, interrupted by Fi's cat. The one that likes to indulge in heavy breathing and walking on boobs.
I got back to Wellington in time for lunch and a flying visit from Bran, who chopped off 6cms of hair, (no one at work noticed) and in return I had Melissa make him crepes. He admired my lack of voice, which does indeed sound like I favour any and all brands of cigarettes, preferably all at once.
Work is mostly good. I managed to misspell siege on Friday night. We were on deadline and I was panicky, but really. Oh Penelope. Just admit you're rubbish. Seige. Siege. Seige. Siege. Don't worry - it didn't make it to print.
I have a workmate who has been at the paper since before I was born. I am at least 15 years younger than all the other subs. Baby. That's me. AND NO ONE PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER. Well, they do. But sometimes I like it that way.
Anyway, this particular reunion made me ponder the past ten years, what others have achieved, and what I have achieved. Let me list these things for you.
Other people sometimes have:
Children
Houses
Pets
Plants they have not neglected and let die
Partners
Assets
Careers
Vegetable gardens
No student loan because they paid it back
No credit card debt because they don't think shoes are a form of religion.
I have:
Shoes, but not nearly enough
An exceptionally lovely vintage full length cream leather jacket that I blew a lot of money on in London and then lost half the buttons off so now I never wear but I think it's an asset of sorts
A broken laptop
A very large student loan
Decent boobs - a natural asset
Credit card debt
A pirate Barbie costume
A lot of books
No plants
Oh, and my looks. They'll never fade, of course.
You might have to reread them a few times but eventually you will see that the lists are slightly different.
I guess a lot of this all comes down to what you want from life and what you consider achievement to be. Different strokes, chaps. And comparing yourself to others, which can be both heartbreaking and exhilarating, is probably not a great idea. Even if it is a great source of entertainment. Reasons why I am glad I am not Amy Winoface and so on.
There are definitely days when I think I have failed miserably at achieving stuff. However, I'm going to go with the rather wanky fact that I'm mostly pretty happy, which I gather not everyone else in the world is (I'm thinking Lindsay Lohan), so I'm going to give me one squillion points just for that. Rad.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Sleepyhead babbling
SHAZAM and the laptop is back in business. I still have no screen, but who needs that? I have a large monitor, perfect for watching Battlestar on. I think the laptop heard me pondering its flying abilities and pulled electronic finger.
New job goes well, I think. This month, Matthew, I be a sub editor for the paper. It will take me through to Christmas at which point I am quite happy to be unemployed. I had a great headline last night. So good I'm not going to say what it was, because it was a mildly bad pun-like one. But I was congratulated, and as I'm never told if I'm doing well, just when I've fracked up, I'm going to take that and run.
We had a champagne brunch on Sunday, with more gluten than you could wade through. Melissa was away so the gluten gluttony was ON. I really do love pastry.
My job has ridiculous hours 3.30-11.30pm so my sleeping patterns are a trifle screwed so I think I might go and have a nap now. And then I have to make scones and take them to Morgan. Just cos.
Oh, and J is back. He brought me Swiss chocolates. They were ever so yum. So, so yum.
New job goes well, I think. This month, Matthew, I be a sub editor for the paper. It will take me through to Christmas at which point I am quite happy to be unemployed. I had a great headline last night. So good I'm not going to say what it was, because it was a mildly bad pun-like one. But I was congratulated, and as I'm never told if I'm doing well, just when I've fracked up, I'm going to take that and run.
We had a champagne brunch on Sunday, with more gluten than you could wade through. Melissa was away so the gluten gluttony was ON. I really do love pastry.
My job has ridiculous hours 3.30-11.30pm so my sleeping patterns are a trifle screwed so I think I might go and have a nap now. And then I have to make scones and take them to Morgan. Just cos.
Oh, and J is back. He brought me Swiss chocolates. They were ever so yum. So, so yum.
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