Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Carbon Hairprint of Shame

Yes, once again I fly to Auckland to ... get my hair cut and reblonded by the Amazing Brandon. He's a magician of sorts and never tries to make balloon animals but instead produces a mean cup of tea.

I've done the math and sadly, it is actually cheaper to fly up here than frequent someone I DO NOT TRUST with my dirty blonde locks in Wellington. So far my hair has cost me $100 for the flights and $25 for lunch. Cheap, I tell you. And the chance to catch up with the other Auckland lot, although Jase is currently in the dogbox for double booking and choosing the other invite. This, let me tell you, is precisely the reason I am not attending his wedding in Raro later this year, and not my dubious finances.

Other stuff. Everyone else I know, and thousands I don't, have been attending the evening concerts at the gardens. I can't because of my job, and I just need to reiterate here that it is only the fact that I usually rather like my job, that prevents me from not throwing massive FOMO tanties when everyone else is clearly having fun and I am asking reporters 'Did you really mean this, or do you mean that, and if you did, then why didn't you just say that?'

We have a new French flatmate - she told me her name and I can't pronounce it or spell it so I just call her the French flatmate. Lazy, I know, but I hardly ever see her and she'll be gone in two weeks when our beloved Oren comes back with presents from Israel. Dear God, they had better be good presents to make up for the fact that I've had to deal with losing my partner in nerd tv watching for two months.

I went to Christchurch for a reunion with the witches. I also saw Ben and Karen's new place and had a nice chat to their child who likes boobs and curls. Smart little boy, that one. The witches were in ace form - Fi's partner lasted a whole 30 minutes with us before declaring that he couldn't take any more of it and he hid in his study with a bag of licorice allsorts for the rest of the night. This was probably very sensible. Christ, we were in what I can only describe as a form so good that we floated in a realm somewhere above cloud nine. However, the gods don't like it when mortals hang above them and I was punished with another bladder infection. Someone up there does not like me.

Other things I have learned this month are that elbow grease and vinegar and baking soda are excellent cleaning tools. I know this because I watched Melissa use all these things to clean our oven. I encouraged her, like a good flatmate ought to, and she did an excellent job. Well done her.

I went to a party (yes, I am that popular) on Friday night where most of the guests seemed to have a link to Palmerston North. This was somewhat amusing, and even more so, whilst being slightly odd, when nice chap said to me: 'Penelope -didn't you go out with Karl in 6th form?' This was completely true and for a moment I was taken back 16 - SIXTEEN years, thank you - to 1994 for my long, by high school standards, relationship with Karl that lasted exactly three weeks. He was my first boyfriend, it was intense, we broke up and he called me a bitch and then said he was joking about meaning that. I wish him well in his endeavours.

The be-tanned one, also known as Whitson Major, arrives tomorrow. This will be nice. I like him. Even if he does have a better tan than I do, but I think anyone who lives in Wellington will agree that, given our weather of late, the fact that I have any tan at all is impressive.

1 comment:

ms. poinsettia said...

off topic - Despite the shame of actually buying a CD at the petrol station, I have the new Fleetwood Mac compilation disc - finally having Silver Springs and Landslide on disc after losing my The Dance tape up North. Happiness is a Fleetwood Mac drenched morning.