Small things making me cross

Fucking mosquitoes can just fuck off and stop using one part of me as an entree before moving on to the main and dessert. I am itchy. How dare they target me when I'm inside. That's cheating.

Cocktails and show ponies

I'm just getting slacker and slacker on the blog front. The problem is the Idealog columns. They take up all the writing time, the little hogs, suckling away at all the words and leaving very little over for this.

Also, I am a sloth.

Unemployment has struck and so far it's been very pleasant. Trips to Sydney, the Bay of Islands - lolling on a catamaran. I am not the poster child for how to find a job.

Things I noted about being on a boat: I scoffed a lot of food. I didn't get any hangovers, despite the cocktails made in a coffee plunger (only available vessel for the purpose) and dolphins are total show ponies. Great big flirts are dolphins, with their come hither leaping.

I have moved flats - and now get to touch up two cats and admire the orange tree. I had to paint my new room and I did a terrible job, but I did do it. I also put together a kitset bookshelf and only two of the shelves are glued in backwards, which I feel demonstrates a certain level of skill.

And to complement unemployment, I have hayfever. It's a right fucker.

Pants of arrogance get tighter

As I was strolling along the Viaduct last Friday night I was stopped by a handsome foreigner who told me I had made his day, such was my beauty. Unfortunately I was wearing headphones and he had to repeat what he'd said three times before I got the full message.

And I replied, 'Thanks! I get that all the time.'

Sad face

And the low light of the past two months has been today - I went to the supermarket specifically to get a chocolate eclair, which I had been thinking about for three days. And then I left it at the checkout and didn't realise until I was back home.

I know how to rock out on Saturdays

The joy of being asked for ID three times in one week, and being refused in one case for not actually having ID (saved by the lovely Raewyn), has been smashed, SMASHED I tell you by spending part of my Saturday night in KFC where they a) took forever to take our order and b) forgot mine. And inevitably I hit c) where I felt rather icky after eating it.

I am now going to wash myself to scrub off the layer of grease that appears to have accumulated in the 15 minutes I spent waiting for my non-existent burger.

Enabling smug mode

Embracing the sad and pathetic joy that is being asked for ID at 35.

Yes, Yes I Know. I am shit on the updating. Life keeps getting in the fucking way, what with its stuff. But, I did get a new teacup and I think you'll all be just as happy about that as me.

Job goes well. Books! What's not to like. I have eaten a lot of cheese, worn a school uniform and a onesie, not yet crashed the car but may have accidentally come close.

And my dad is now the proud owner of his very first cell phone, courtesy of Penelope. Text him. TEXT HIM.

THE TEAPOTS ARE SAFE

I know you were all concerned about how I was going to get four teapots and all the associated shit that goes with owning many vessels home but I did it. Secure in my knickers and stuffed full of my socks the little teapots made the trip of a lifetime across the ditch, eager to acquire Kiwi accents and Bell tea.

Once home, I roused ma and pa out of retirement to go car shopping. They had the best time as I merely looked stupid and a bit colourist as I refused to buy a yellow vehicle. No need to look like I should be racing the streets of Tokyo when I can barely recall how to drive.

And now I'm safely ensconced in good ol' Auckland. It's no Wellington but as that city failed to find me the job, it's in the dogbox. Auckland has let me be a penguin and I am perfecting my waddle.

And now I have to look through my new flatmate's wedding album. He's divorced so this should be very good.

Packing up troubles and teapots

Attempts to pack for move back to NZ stymied by fact I am useless. Why do I own so many teapots made out of stuff that breaks easily?

Last few days at work and I am disappointed by the number of people who think it is perfectly acceptable to send me work when clearly I am busy researching just how I can get my extra bags of things I probably don't really need home.

Lackey time

Working New Year's Eve! Envy me, mofos.

I have hurt my bottom. Or the top of my thigh/left buttock, if you will. That'll teach me to stretch.

cups running over

Melbourne Cup day = openly drinking at the desk as the boss walks by.

Did not win office sweepstake. Did eat cupcakes.

Sydney has also given me my first sunburn of summer. In the cleavage again. I swear I lovingly rubbed sunblock on that body part. So lovingly. But alas, I'm now painfully rubbing aloe all over it instead. It's hot in a bad way.

Extreme excitement on the streets of Sydney. Topshop is here! People queued overnight! OMG we can be fashionable!

Given that Ratty and I are exceedingly hip and with it (why, I have flowered trousers) we set off to investigate all four floors of garment heaven. Things I realised quite quickly:

I am not hip and with it
I hate crowds
Shorts that zip up the back do something very odd to one's bottom
Topshop knickers are excellent

It was an exhausting morning and I had to come home and collapse on my bed with a block of chocolate that is now only half the block it used to be.

Also recently arrived in Sydney is summer. 32 degrees on Friday, that slumped to 20 today. Is really very irksome because no matter how warm it is outside, the aircon at work is set to Siberia.

I don't even want another whiskey

I am sick. SICK.

Any port in a storm

Or rather, there's port in a bus stop in Auckland. I know this because I left it there. While waiting for the airport bus. So instead of my dad getting port last night, he got a story about a bottle of port and the no doubt deserving person who will find it. So together we feel charitable. And I don't feel stupid. Not at all.

A sadder shade of lovely

I went out last night wearing my new jacket which I love most dearly (and not just because it was on sale for only a quarter of the original price) because it's a spiffy shade of lovely. Ran into an ex beau who looked at me and said, 'That's an old lady jacket'.

Boldly going somewhere slowly

Yes, it's that time of year again. Time for me to cook something slightly stupid because I'm a stubborn pony. Tonight we shall eventually be tucking into the no meat, no pasta lasagne! I know - fucking delicious is what you're thinking and I'm sure you'll be right. I'll let you know in about another 17 hours because it's taking ages to cook and I started late as well because I was held up at work - actually working.  God, it was terrible.

The mothership came and went. She made me cups of tea and convinced me to purchase a $22 teacup and saucer. It's awfully pretty. Not even slightly sensible. So a great deal like me. But then we tired of her and sent her home. Just in time to encounter that volcano nonsense - only screwed with her flight a little bit.

I managed to complete dry July - feel free to buy me drinks by way of congratulations. Did I lose weight? No. Did chocolate consumption go up? Yes. What about cheese? Through the roof. Did I have the most beastly period of the year? Yes. What does this prove? Booze helps with the bleeding.

Morgan also came through Sydney for at least five hours. Jetsetters - hmmph. She was in time to help me have my first drink in a month. After two I had to go home and have a two-hour nap. Will have to work on tolerance. Have rolled up my sleeves already. Join me! It's the good fight.

Whale tail

I saw a whale's tail. Not the top of a g-string poking out the back of a slapper's low-riding jeans - an actual whale tail in Sydney harbour. First real whale tail! Didn't see the rest of the whale, it was refusing to show us everything, the big flirt. The coastguard blocked it off so stupid people couldn't sail their boaties over it, as stupid boatie people like to do - they are also very fond of sailing directly in the ferry's path.

So, whales are big. Quite big. Bigger than Tim, even.

Extreme hurtification

So dry July. So far I've had a lot of headaches. And so much pizza. Almost my entire quiz team is sober, which means we all get bored a great deal more quickly. Is quiz only bearable with booze? Can't be true.

Word up

The wind has picked up, due in no small part to me eating vegan for a week.

I've just been hassled by Australians for calling my jandals 'jandals'. Apparently this is weird. This statement comes from people who eat jaffles. I think that's all we need to know.