How to choose a flag

I was not interested in the debate around changing the New Zealand flag during the public submissions process. Public opinion seemed to be split between people lolzing at all the badly designed attempts at flags involving jandals, sheep, and fish and chips, and people raging that the government was spending money on the bloody flag referendum instead of addressing child poverty, the TPPA and other difficult matters.

But then the long list of 40 designs was announced and I realised, yeah, I can do this. I can wade in and have opinions and put my expert analysis skillz to work.

So to save the Flag Consideration Panel further work, I shall now go through and eliminate all the unsuitable designs which will leave us with the one true flag that will guide as, as a nation, through the new millennium and beyond.


Step one: eliminate all designs that look like a civil defence tsunami warning sign

Tsunami warning sign

Korus are nice and all – and people like them because they are highly symbolic – but the ones included on the flag designs all look like the giant wave of destruction on a tsunami sign.

This will mean that if one of those flags is chosen, people will look at it and think “Arrgh! A tsunami is coming! Run to higher ground!” Or worse – they’ll see a tsunami warning sign and instead of fleeing to safety, they’ll instead feel strong patriotic pride in New Zealand, go Kiwi, etc.

So let’s cull those korus:


Step two: eliminate all designs that look like the logo of a sports funding agency and/or the basis of the national costume worn by a Miss New Zealand in the 1980s

Sport NZ logo

It’s that darn silver fern. The trouble is, people are so in love with the Canadian flag. They look at it and say, “Canadia has a leaf on their flag, so why don’t we have a leaf on ours?” Because New Zealand is not Canada. We have no obvious ties to Canada. Unless you count Céline Dion’s three No.1 albums.

1986-miss-universeAs well as being a popular symbol in the New Zealand’s sporting world, there’s a much more serious risk. If any sort of silver fern design is selected, this will also do immense retrospective damage to New Zealand in beauty pageants of the ’80s.

As I have previously examined, a popular design for the national costume section was a black gown with a silver fern motif. If this becomes the flag, then all these Miss New Zealands (and the Duchess of Cambridge!) will suddenly look like they’ve dressed up in the flag, which is about the tackiest thing ever. And prior to this there was absolutely nothing tacky about their dresses.

So let’s make like the early settlers and clear those ferns:


Step three: eliminate all designs that look inspired by the 1990 Commonwealth Games logo

1990 Commonwealth GamesSo much symbolism! It’s round which resembles a ball, which is used in a lot of games. But the round shape also resembles a globe and therefore the red stripe is the mighty British Empire. The stripe also represents a running track, which is used in a lot of other games. The four stars represent the Southern Cross because it is not possible to live in the southern hemisphere and not have strangely erotic feelings about the Southern Cross.

So anything with too much symbolism (which, let’s be fair, is a lot of the designs) and/or with more stars than Celebrity Treasure Island cannot be included. Just think of the headache.

The Games are over and so is that Southern Cross:


Step four: And that leaves us with…

I thought this elimination process would be useful, but honestly it’s turned out to be a bit of a disaster.


The circular flag design looks like a modified goatse and/or a ’90s body piercing loop. The interlocking koru is just Gordon Walters lite. That leaves us with the two triangles. One is almost a square (ugh, Switzerland!) and I find the chopped-off corners of the triangle to be geometrically distressing. I don’t like feeling geometric distress.

This leaves us with the one with the red base. It is simple and geometrically pleasing and not drowning in symbolism. I like it, but do we want it as a flag? I can see it as the emblem of the resistance movement in a dystopian kidult TV series, but I’m not sure if it would work flying from Parliament.

Step five: I don’t even know anymore

But the emoji New Zealand flag will always be there for us.

NZ flag emojiNZ flag emojiNZ flag emojiNZ flag emojiNZ flag emoji

The mousse that will torment me 4 eva

Whenever I feel bored with my blog, I find the thing that works well enough to unbore me is changing the WordPress theme I use. So say hello to Twenty Fifteen, the most recent default WordPress theme.

I went to New Caledonia in June. I think it’s one of my favourite places, probably because it’s only a couple of hours’ flight from New Zealand but it’s all exotic and French. Not that I got to put my two years of high school French to much use. I’m currently deep in the midst of learning Swedish (more on that later?) and I found it had pretty much taken the place of what French I knew. I could happily order en kaffe, snälla, but not un thé, s’il vous plait. Fortunately most hospo staff there knew how to recognise the look of panic on an English-speaking tourist.

Who needs friends when you have a menu to dine with?

Best experience – Au P’tit Café in Nouméa. This is the deal – it’s only open four days a week, Tuesday to Friday. It’s not open on weekends because the owner wants to keep his weekends free. The menu changes every week based on what’s available, which is quite a wise choice when you live on an island. Each week the menu only has four main meal options and four dessert options. And that’s it.

The food is OMFG-so-good quality and – this is the crazy part – the prices are not insane. Like, they’re average for a Nouméa restaurant and a lot less than what you’d expect to pay for food of this quality in New Zealand (and the exchange rate was a lot kinder back then). The restaurant building itself is not at all fancy – a small (petit!) building with a large covered deck where all the tables are. In fact, from the outside it’s a really ordinary looking café in a really ordinary neighbourhood.

It was so good I went there three times. This is the chocolate mousse I had once. It actually makes me feel a bit sad when I see this photo because I know that I will probably never again have something as perfect as this. But what do you do in a situation like this? Don’t be sad that it’s over, be glad that it happened, I guess. But still. (Crying face emoji)

‘Laide night special

Last month I went to Adelaide, as some sort of vague birthday-related travel. And also because I wanted to make a “‘Laide night special” pun, which I did, even (accidentally) managing to take two photos with vanishing points that kind of mirror each other.

Adelaide is a nice city. It’s like a more populous Christchurch if the city hadn’t started to abandon the CBD about 20 years ago (and if there hadn’t been a massive earthquake, obvs). It was quite hot when I was there, but it was a pleasant dry desert heat, not the filthy sticky humidity of a New Zealand summer. For the first time in my life I understood why people are normally so in love with warm weather.

I just wanted to have a nice chilled out holiday and not have to worry about wine tours of the Barossa Valley, or whatever it is that tourists normally do in South Australia. These were my highlights.

Pie floater

My main priority in Adelaide was to enjoy the South Australian cultural heritage icon that is the pie floater. This is a meat pie in a bowl of thick pea soup. I found a bakery that specialised in them and ordered one.

There’s no magic – it is literally just a meat pie in a bowl of thick pea soup. The whole is not greater than the sum of its parts. But I ate it and it was fine.

It would probably have been a million times better if I had it at the end of a long day/night of drinking. Or the morning after. In fact, thinking about this I kind of want to go back to Adelaide, get pissed, then have a pie floater the next morning. Oh yeah.

Pie floater

10c bottle refund

For years I’d seen the little notice on the back of Australian fizzy drink bottles that promised a 10c refund in South Australia. It seemed like the promise of a distant utopia, a land where rubbish had a cash value. So while in Adelaide I carefully collected my five used water and iced tea bottles, determined to get back 50 cents.

But it turned out that the nearest recycle depot was out in the suburbs and the bus fare to get there would have cost far more than 50 cents. So instead the bottles went into my hotel room’s rubbish bin.

But with such a lucrative booty at stake, I’m sure someone, somehow made sure that bottle got refunded. By the way, the scheme is a huge success – apparently 79.5% of bottles sold in South Australia are refunded, and bottles make up only 2.2% of litter.

Bottle deposit

South Australia Music Hall of Fame

The possible highlight of my time in Adelaide was when I accidentally discovered the South Australia Music Hall of Fame. It seemed to have been constructed by volunteers in a few spare rooms in a municipal building. It was mostly posters and clipped articles about giant-haired stars of the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s. There was a hint of the ’80s (Barnesy was raised in Elizabeth, SA), but nothing newer than that.

The web tells me that contemporary artists have been inducted into the hall – people like Guy Sebastian and Sia Furler – but I couldn’t find the ’00s or ’10s corner in the hall.

The Hall of Fame was more likely to have a photocopy of the hit parade from the 1960s with “THIS BRINGS BACK MEMORIES!!!!” scribbled on it. But I appreciate that the Hall of Fame is probably a volunteer effort, created by people who probably mainly care about the rock ‘n’ roll of their youth and wouldn’t know what to make of “Chandelier” or “Tonight Again“.

South Australia Music Hall of Fame

The palm trees in the “Uptown Funk” video

At the moment “Uptown Funk” is the number one single in New Zealand and various territories around the world. Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars’ infectious pop-funk song is a bona fide international mega hit. But right now I’m obsessed with the palm trees in the music video.

The video sees singer Bruno, producer Mark and their posse hanging out in a New York-ish but nonspecific “uptown” street. It’s all very neat and cinematic, but it’s clearly a film studio backlot.

That in itself isn’t so remarkable, but later in the video things get interesting. Palm trees can be seen in the background, something that doesn’t fit with the New York-ish buildings. And it’s not one accidental shot – they’re in a lot of scenes.

Uptown Funk palm trees

So there’s obviously no attempt to pretend this is real uptown Manhattan. It’s more like a fantasy world where suddenly stretch limos are cool and not transport for drunk teens. The uptown of the “Uptown Funk” video is like how you imagine New York to be when you’re 12. And the presence of palm trees makes perfect sense because they have palm trees in America and New York is in America, right?

“Uptown Funk” is going to be one of those songs that gets on the playlist of popular bars and wedding DJs, the sort of song that fills the dance floor and who cares what trees are in the video. But right now I just want to have a little moment of obsession with the palm trees in the “Uptown Funk” video and endow them with more symbolism that they were ever intended to have.

Letting live and letting die

On New Year’s Eve, Kanye West released a new single “Only One”, which was also a collaboration with Paul McCartney. This was followed by a few tweets from people joking about how Kanye was a great talent spotter and surely the collaboration would mean great things for this Paul McCartney chap. And then that in turn was followed by outrage from others, highly bothered that the youth of today did not know who Paul McCartney was.

I saw a news report where a reporter asked various teens if they’d heard of Paul McCartney and most of them hadn’t, though the name was vaguely familiar to a few. And it got me thinking. How crazy is it for a teen of 2015 to have not heard of Paul McCartney?

It made me wonder if the teen Beatles fans of 1965 were berated for not knowing the music hall legends of 1915. It’s not quite an equal comparison, because in 1915 – right in the midst of World War I – recorded music wasn’t the thing it was today. Gramophones were still a luxury item and popular radio was about a decade away from starting. People experienced music through music hall shows and home performances using sheet music. There were music hall stars, but in a way, the song composers were better known.

It’s only been since the advent of the recorded music industry in the mid 20th century that the fetishisation of pop stars has started. That leads to Paul McCartney, a man who has been working in the music biz for over 50 years.

Is it reasonable for a teen of today to not know who he is? The Beatles had a huge, excited teen following in the 1960s, but who goes to Paul McCartney concerts now? Other old people. Teens are off see One Direction or Taylor Swift shows. Meanwhile, Macca is off jamming with Dave Grohl and making music for other rock dudes. But maybe some lucky teen might get taken to a Paul McCartney show by their grandparents.

Paul McCartney doesn’t court teen audiences anymore, so why should teens know who he is? Is it the duty of parents and teachers to teach kids about popular music of the 20th century? And if so, how much would that suck the life out of pop?

When I was a kid, Paul McCartney was the guy who sang “Say Say Say” with Michael Jackson. I didn’t start to explore the Beatles until I was about 19, when I could relate to it on my own terms, not via the lens of the previous generation.

I read once that people get angry about things that remind them they’re going to die. Maybe this is one of those situations. Paul McCartney isn’t a floppy-haired teen idol anymore. He’s not even an earnest rock dad singing songs about picturesque Scottish peninsulas. He’s a grandfather with dyed hair, but one who can still write good songs and entertain his fans. Teens don’t know who Paul McCartney is; you’re old, you’re going to die.

There are still going to be teens out there who listen to the Beatles and Wings (especially the super fun ones who declare that all modern music is rubbish), but it’s not unreasonable for a teen to not be familiar with old music.

Unless this whole shemozzle is an elaborate stunt orchestrated by Kanye West. In which case, well done.

Make yiz mine: 2014 in New Zealand pop

It’s the end of 2014 and there are year-in-review lists galore, but I haven’t been able to find one that’s looking at the year in New Zealand pop music. So I have taken it upon myself to produce such a list. There’s more to New Zealand pop than Lorde, you know (but not much more).

First, it has to be noted that 2014 wasn’t an especially great year for New Zealand pop. It’s one of those quiet years where not many New Zealand tracks end up in the charts, but not every year can be as almighty as 2004 was. I was going to make a top 10, but I couldn’t even come up with 10 worthy songs, so instead here’s the golden eight, in some sort of order.

Benny Tipene “Step On Up”

Thank eff for B. Tipene. He also had success with two other singles in 2014 – “Make You Mine” and “Lonely”, but it’s the aggro-folk sound of “Step On Up” that gets him on this list. B-Tipz is like the ideal X Factor contestant: not burdened with winning, and with enough talent and experience that he can immediately start writing, recording and touring without having to first learn the ropes doing gigs at community fun days.

David Dallas feat. Ruby Frost “The Wire”

This is the opening track of David Dallas’ album Falling Into Place and it’s a hearty dose of sonic coolness. Ruby Frost manages to sweep clear her pink-haired X Factor judging niceness, while Ddot gives the best hip hop vocals of the year (lol). The ending is a bit anticlimactic, but the rest of the song is quality.

Broods “Bridges”

Broods specialise in bittersweet electro-pop, and also had success in 2014 with “Mother & Father”. They brother-sister duo work with Joel Little, who is best known as the lead singer of ’00s teen pop-punk band Goodnight Nurse (and he also won a Grammy for “Royals”) so there’s his skilful minimalist electro sound mixed with Georgia Nott’s delicate vocals. And the brother does something as well.

Lorde “Yellow Flicker Beat”

I feel like I’m cheating putting this in the list, like somehow Lorde doesn’t count as a New Zealand artist because… nah, I got nothing. “Yellow Flicker Beat” might have the kind of drama, attitude and sophistication that you don’t normally get around these parts, but it is still coming straight outta Devonport. It feels like the next step between Pure Heroine-era Lorde and whatever form her next album will take. Like, it’s really good, but the thrill comes from knowing that even better things will come. No pressure.

Stan Walker feat. Ria Hall, Troy Kingi & Maisey Rika “Aotearoa”

The X Factor is all through this list. I take great comfort in series judge Stan Walker. In a patchy year, Stan is still there with two quality songs. “Aotearoa” was released for Maori Language Week, cruelly kept from the No.1 spot by the Madden Brothers. It’s a wonderfully upbeat song, and the video will be emotional catnip for homesick expats for years to come.

Six60 “Special”

This is the power of Six60 – “Special” debuted at number one, has not yet left the top 10, is the 10th highest selling New Zealand single of 2014 and the music video hasn’t even been released. Forget Moorhouse or Titanium – if you’re looking for the New Zealand equivalent of One Direction, it’s Six60. Five good looking lads conveniently disguised as a laid-back roots band. It’s the only way a boyband could be accepted in New Zealand.

Ginny Blackmore & Stan Walker “Holding You”

Stan and Ginny met on the set of The X Factor – she a guest performer, he a judge. They combined forces, wrote a song and created a mighty pop ballad. “Holding You” has a comfortingly old fashioned sound, and it’s only the restrained production style that outs it as a release from 2014. By the way, the video is pleasingly nuts and might even be referencing the Bush/Gabriel hugfest of the “Don’t Give Up” vid 28 years prior.

Timmy Trumpet & Savage “Freaks”

10 years ago, Savage was a popular rapper in his own right. After a few quiet years, he suddenly made a comeback via a remix of “Swing” by Australian producer Joel Fletcher, charting at No.2 in Australia. So with his vocals on “Freaks” by Timmy Trumpet (another Australian producer), Savage seems to have found a new niche as an Australasian Lil Jon, shouting exuberant vocals (“The mighty trumpet!”) over dance tracks. The pro-trumpet propaganda anthem charted at No.1 for five weeks and was the best-selling single by a New Zealand artist in 2014, but as it’s a modern producer-led track, Savage only features on the verses, with the chorus role filled by Mr Trumpet’s digital trumpet. It brings to mind the line from “Swing”: I heard somebody yell ‘Savage, where the chorus at?’ Where indeed, Savage. New Zealand pop single of the year? This is what 2014 has given us.

And here’s a Spotify playlist with the eight tracks, plus a few extras from B-Tipz and Broods.

Life continues at 40

About a week ago, or whenever, I turned 40. It was even more low-key than my 39th birthday. I guess it’s the power combo of having a birthday three days before Christmas mixed with people just not caring so much about birthdays in adulthood. But hey, I got two presents so that’s something.

40 doesn’t really feel old – or at least it doesn’t feel anywhere as old as I was led to believe by Dave and the Dynamos’ 1983 No.1 hit single “Life Begins at 40”. And I know that whenever someone complains about being old, there’s always someone older who gets angry and tells them to make the most of their youth and stop complaining. But I’m thinking that maybe 40 is the kind of age where you can start saying “I’m too old for this shit” without irony.

A year ago I made a list of things to achieve before I turn 40:

  • Finish reading Ulysses.
  • Come up with a few more things to do before I turn 40.
  • Explore historic Northland.
  • Learn to say “Hi, my name is Robyn. I am 40 years old.” in 40 languages of the world.

My progress report:

  • Lol, as if. It’s still sitting on my bookshelf.
  • Well, yeah, I already did that one.
  • I did this, driving up the east coast and down the west. Highly recommended.
  • Um, je m’appelle Robyn. J’ai quarante ans. Aw, guys, I can’t even say it in Maori.

Glasses are so much cheaper now that you can order them online. All up, these cost about $200 less than the ones I got in 2000.
Glasses are so much cheaper now that you can order them online. All up, these cost about $200 less than the ones I got in 2000.
I have reading glasses, but I don’t really need them. Or rather, I had another thing wrong with my vision and my optometrist added a +1.00 magnification to the prescription. I guess it makes things slightly easier to read, but I’m not at the stage of complaining about the size of type in the phone book or a newspaper (lol “phone book”, “newspaper”).

I hardly have any grey hair, which is fun. A few years ago I decided to grow out my roots, expecting some sort of Bride of Frankenstein look, but my natural hair was just this fairly inoffensive shade of light brown, and in such better condition without all the battery from colouring. So I’ll make the most of that while it lasts.

I’ve been paying attention to people in showbiz who turned 40 in the last year. My fellow 1974 babies include: Robbie Williams, Mel C, Carrie Brownstein, Joaquin Phoenix, Chloë Sevigny, Kate Moss, Posh Spice, Li’l Kim, Jimmy Fallon, David Faustino and Miranda July. They all turned 40 and kept doing cool things, so I knew everything was going to be alright.

But I still don’t own a table.

Giving and receiving

My Secret Santa package arrived and it was good. I opened the box and discovered three items wrapped in newspaper (reuse!), with instructions on the order in which to unwrap.

Strangely, it was easier to plug into a USB port than a real one.

Gift #1 was a USB stick. Wait. It was a stick from a tree with “USB stick” scratched into the bark. WTF, worst Christmas ever!!!! I cried for several hours, before mustering up the physical and emotional strength to open the next gift.

One Direction would actually be improved if they replaced Louis with a sheet of lined refill.

Gift #2 was a CD of Four, the fourth album by One Direction. Despite having previously moaned about One Direction gifts, I was actually really happy to receive Four. While I do enjoy the musical oeuvre of 1D, I’m not enough of a fan to actually buy their albums, but Four is a good pop recording and represents a new stage in the boy band’s evolution. And besides, “Steal My Girl” is really decent tune.

My Secret Santa also went to the effort of blanking out all appearances of Louis in the CD booklet after I expressed my dislike of him. This was a really kind and thoughtful, because if I’d seen L. Tomlinson’s likeness, Christmas would have been ruined again.

USB stick
The perfect accessory for the modern girl.

Gift #3 was an actual real USB stick, a nice 16GB thing that I can use to put thing on. Hooray! Christmas is saved!

My Secret Santa also included a letter that old his amazing story (so far), and in a way that was the best part of package.

Oh, apropos of nothing, I was alerted to this vlog by a dude who is describing what he gave his Secret Santa person, and what he received. By total coincidence, the gift he gave his Secret Santa person was exactly the same as the gift I received. But obviously he wasn’t my Secret Santa as that would mean it wasn’t a secret and would somehow spoil the fun or something. But I’m sure that the person who received his gift was really happy to receive and it and may or may not have literally rolled on the floor squealing with delight. *wink*

On the flip side, my Secret Santa recipients enjoyed the present I got for them. It was hard because they were a business, but in the end I think I got something that a group could enjoy.

By the way, NZ Post and Secret Santa fans have donated more than $6000 to the Christchurch City Mission. The mission also gets all the gifts intended for people who didn’t keep up their end of the bargain and send a gift. So everyone has a happy Christmas!

Merry stuff

It’s Secret Santa season, and I’ve again taken the plunge and signed up for NZ Post’s very well organised NZ Twitter Secret Santa.

But I have a fear involving Secret Santa and One Direction. Every November (deep within Q4, the time of year when the best pop is released), One Direction release a new album and, despite my best intentions, I usually end up tweeting about it or something to do with the group around Secret Santa time. This year it’s been my newfound appreciation for Liam, due to his amazing production-line selfie-taking process:

My fear is this: my Secret Santa person will see a 1D tweet and think, “Oh, she must be a huge 1D fan!” and then gift me something like a thin book with a name like One Direction: Their Life in Pictures, full of various photo agency snaps of the quintet with scarves and haircuts outside film premieres. I would be genuinely upset by this for two reasons:

1. No one wants One Direction merch. Not even actual One Direction fans (especially not 1D fans). What the merch represents is not why people like One Direction. It’s not a keyring with their faces on it; it’s their music and their #cheekybantz. And, curiously enough, those things can be legitimately enjoyed for free online.

2. Novelty gifts are a heartbreaking waste of resources. George Monbiot wrote a piece about the short, pointless lives of novelty gifts and their impact on the planet. It made me think of all the weird novelty gifts I’ve received over the years. They all eventually end up in the bin or are taken to the local recycling shop. There’s a bit of science that says that people enjoy experiences more than objects. I keep seeing tweets from ladies saying “Something nice from Lush would be ok” and I think, yeah, some nice bath stuff would be really enjoyable.

It doesn’t have to be complicated. When I come to buying a Secret Santa gift for my person, I just think “Is this something I would like to receive?” If the answer is hellz yah, then that’s the thing.

One Direction Colgate
Get out of my mouth, Louis.

Hey pretty lady

Do men in New Zealand catcall women? Is street harassment a thing in Aotearoa? The New Zealand Herald made a hidden-camera video, with a model walking around central Auckland and only one person approached her but he “sounds European”.

So is this not a problem in New Zealand? Well, New Zealand may not have the same street culture as New York, but for sure women get unwanted men approaching them.

Unlike the Herald‘s test person, I’m not a model. I’m not the kind of girl that random men approach in a “hey baby” kind of way, but street harassment has even happened to me.

This is a sampling of the more memorable situations that have happened in the past 10 years:

Karangahape Road

I was walking home from work along Karangahape Road, along the bit over the motorway. A man approaches me. He says something but I can’t understand him so I ask him to repeat himself. He again mumbles, and again I look confused. The third time I hear him say “If I give you money will you have sex with me?” I walked off, feeling a bit sorry for him because he seemed quite messed up.


Hobson Street

It was about 6.45am, and I was heading to work as I was on the early shift. I was waiting at the pedestrian crossing outside the Skycity Theatre when a really drunk guy came up to me. He was convinced I’d just come from the casino and suggested we keep partying into the night morning. I said I was on my way to work, which he didn’t believe as obviously I was heading over to the Albion Hotel to play their poker machines. He seemed bewildered as I didn’t walk into the pub and kept going along Hobson Street.


Courtenay Place

I was walking along Courtenay Place on a Saturday afternoon. I passed a random white guy and he said, “How’s it going?” I didn’t know if he was talking to me and also couldn’t be bothered finding out so I ignored him. He shouted “I said, how’s it going?” and I just kept walking. With anger in his voice, he yelled “Fucking… red neck”. I’m pretty sure he was left kicking himself that he hadn’t been able to come up with a better insult.


Dixon Street

I was walking along Dixon Street on a Sunday afternoon. A guy started walking alongside me and said, “Hey, pretty girl. You wanna talk?” Really? I was not having it and shot back “get fucked”. He laughed and said, “Yeah, let’s do that!” I immediately turned and walked off in the other direction.


Munters in cars

And then there were all the times when munters in passing cars have yelled stuff, most of which is unintelligible. One time some teen boys yelled at me then turned down a nearby cul-de-sac (which seems like a real amateur move) so I found them still sitting in their car and told them they were dicks.

This is all a lot harder to capture on video, but who knows what the future of wearable tech will reveal. (Do men make passes at girls who wear Google Glass?)

None of these situations were pleasant. I had places to go, things to do and I was having to stop and deal with these random dudes. It doesn’t happen to me a lot, but when it does, it’s annoying and I wish it didn’t happen.