I went to the Harvey Norman store in Hammo. It’s right on the edge of town – so much so that it was possible to drive there from Raglan without appearing to actually enter an urban area.
I got a stereo. It’s an end-of-the-line Aiwa – the sort of thing that was cool before wood and silver metal came back in fashion. Very 1996, y’know. But it was really cheap and Aiwa make good stereos and it’ll mean that I can listen to music without having to use headphones (Walkman or computer).
On the way out there Dad asked me if I had plans to get a job this year. Like me spending the last year being unemployed was a deliberate lifestyle choice. I guess the one thing that’s keeping me from being an extremely active job seeker is the fact that my CV sucks. The CV guy who did one for me at the beginning of the year did a really sloppy job and every time I try to make a good CV usually results in me being disgusted with myself. Working is easy – getting a job is the hard part. Argh.
On the other hand, I think I’d make an excellent housewife.
I want to explore historic Northland. But do I do it now – with no money – or wait until I get a job, save up and do it with a bit of comfort?
I think I should get a job. Being unemployed isn’t boring – I can always find plenty o’ stuff to do. I guess it’s more that I’d like to have a big interesting project with other people to work on.
There’s an art exhibit (not Xzibit) at the Raglan town hall. A bunch of local artists have stuff on show. There’s some good stuff there. One person has a lot of interesting block things (you know, block things). Out in a side room was some stuff that looks like knock-offs of the sort of things that homeware shops sell, Like, a drawing of a tomato with a recipe for salsa scribbled on top, and those little girl pictures with stuff like “DIVA” written on them. So I’m going to go back tomorrow and see if I can convince teh parentals to buy something for me.
I need a haircut. Oh, hey, I’m going to tell my haircut story:
Ok, I met this guy at a party. He was a hairdresser so the next time I needed a haircut I went to see him. He gave me a really good haircut, and was really good to talk to during the whole process. The next few times were just as good. Then I got some foils done. He ran out of the right shade of blonde, so he used some other stuff. I ended up with some really skanky white blonde bits in with the rest. My haircut wasn’t all that good that time either. The next time I got it cut and coloured didn’t improve anything. It was cut long at the back and layered way too much on top, so all the weaker, coloured hair fluffed up and the non-coloured stuff underneath went down. The foils weren’t done so well. I left the salon looking like I had six weeks of regrowth. Not only that, but I’d be at the supermarket and see women in their 40s with the same kind of hair. So one night I got so sick of it that I went to Grey Lynn Foodtown and bought some $11.95 dye, dyed my at (at 1.00 am), then chopped off the hair at the back and it looks so much better than it did after having it professionally cut. Ok, cool.
When I was in Tauranga I bought this really cool lipstick. It’s a shiny pink. The secret of looking good with make-up (for me, at least) is to not wear too much. Serious, I look like a drag queen when I wear too much make-up. I think only incredibly amazingly attractive women can get away with wearing shitloads of make-up. For everyone else it doesn’t enhance, it skankifies.
I drove around the back of Mt Karioi (that doesn’t look like it’s spelled right. It was a narrow, winding gravel road, but suddenly it turned into a wide, sealed road for a few kilometres, but then it was back to the gravel.
I saw a carpark and stopped there. There was a path leading to a makeshift lookout area. The lookout looked out over a valley, and beyond that was the Tasman Sea. It was a cloudless day, so there was this big expanse of blue ocean.
I walked out along a bit of headland that was sticking out. It was a little unnerving because there was cliff all around. Back at the look out a crazy one-eyed fellow wearing a thread-bare Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt told me that he was waiting for some friends who were down at the bay getting “paua (or abalone).” Ah yes, stick the little explanation in for the tourist. I thanked him and continued up the coast.
I found Monkey Island and Monkey Island 2 on a Mac abandonware site. I’m happy.
I was at a party, at my friend’s sister’s place. There were people who’d been at high school with me, their parents and their kids. Someone put on that Elvis CD, then some Rolling Stones. Then Spider Bait was played.
At midnight I sent text message to everyone. Yes, please, pass the Courvoisier.
After about three hours sleep I realised that I was not going to get a good night’s sleep so I jumped in my car and drove to Mount Maunganui. It was hot and sunny. I mean, it was hot and it was sunny. Since when is there really excellent tropical weather in New Zealand?
I walked around the base of the Mount (lovely views of Tauranga Harbour, Matakana Island, THE PACIFIC OCEAN), then along the beach (lovely views of hot guys, thank you very much), then out along that rocky bit of land that juts out. I remember when I was a wee girl – like more than 20 years ago – there used to be a mini marine park built there. There were tanks with fish and stuff in them. Now all that’s gone. There’s just a very flat area.
I realised that I’d only had a bottle of Diet Coke to drink and nothing to eat, so I hauled myself over to the shops and had a sandwich. Yes, one of those.
I caught the ferry over to Tauranga, but most of the shops were shut. I had 90 minutes to spend meandering around the few chain stores that were open.
By then I was getting tired, so once I was back at the Mount I drove back to Raggiz.
It was a good day. I got a little sunburnt, though given how pale I am, that’s not hard to do.
Happy new year. In 2003 I will strive towards imperfection.
Apparently when Molasses was sold and became Aqua Velvet, none of the staff was kept. So the head coffee guy started his own coffee place. It’s located down the alley between Right Up My Alley and the ever-excellent GAg. There’s no menu board, just an espresso machine. So I went up there and ordered a takeaway latte and – oh my God – it was made in a normal-sized latte cup, not the usual big-ass bowl o’ latte that someone has become the way that lattes are served in New Zealand. There was no price list and the dude said I should just pay whatever I think a latte is worth. I gave him $2.50, but in retrospect I think I should have given him $3.00. It was a good latte.
I’m going to Hammo for New Years. There’s going to be a barbecue and beers, which is a good way to celebrate. Damn, I’ve spent the last month being all like “OMG! I will be spending New Years Eve on my own! No one loves me!!!” etc. So now I can officially tell myself to STFU.
I still haven’t figured out how to not scare guys, but I’m working on it. More pink, perhaps?
I bought “Justified” from The Warehouse in Hamilton. I would have supported one of the incredibly cool independently owned record stores such as Big Tones, or maybe Tracs, but The Warehouse was cheapest – $29.95 vs $34.95.
I took the case up to the music counter to get the disc. There were two girls working at that counter. One of them was like, “OMG! We should listen to this one next! I woke up with that song in my head!” and the other one was trying to be all cool and was like, “Justin Timberlake tries to be like Michael Jackson”. So I was like, “Yeah, but he does it better than Michael Jackson does these days.”
I paid for the CD and lingered in the nearby women’s clothing section while the girls played “Like I love you”. All around me people were subtly moving to the beat. A Warehouse employee was sorting out underwear and putting it on a rack. I heard her singing along.
It was joy.
(I promise I’ll shut up about Justin Timberlake soon, ok?)
This is what happens when you get three women together who are or have recently been pregnant: they talk about pregnancy stuff (motherhood really does mean mental freeze). Then they get drunk (except for the pregnant one) and they talk about regular stuff and for a while things are like they were when we were 18.
“You’ll be next, Robyn!” they say. Jesus. I hope not.
So we were going around bars trying to find one that had a decent amount of people (no one sticks around in Hamilton at this time of year). There was one bar that usually is a really good live music venue, but instead had an old drunk bogan lady sitting by the bar. We played a game of pool while Incubus and Blindspott were playing on the bar’s stereo. Still searching for a crowd, we went to one bar and there seemed to be a pretty good vibe there. There was an ok covers band and the crowd looked cool. I was at the bar about to buy a beer when the others decided that the bar was “too young” and that we should move on to another bar. Oh my God.
So we went to The Bank and the DJ was playing the greatest hits of the ’80s and ’90s. Occasionally there’d be a song from the last couple of years (but it wasn’t often). But by then I’d had enough beers that I actually got excited when “Groove is in the heart” was played.
But there was a bright spot in the middle of it all: the DJ played “Like I love you”. “Oh my God,” I squealed. “I love Justin Timberlake! I want him to marry me!” At that moment a drunk dude decided that my friend and I needed his company, but then my friend finished her beer and went off to the bar, leaving me maniacally dancing to Mr Timberlake with this lame drunk guy. It was spectacular.
I finally relented and bought “Justified” today. The idea being that eventually I’ll get it out of my system. But I dunno. It’s been over a year since I first got into Nsync and that’s showing no sign of fading. And how can you not love an album with a song called “(And she said) Take me now”?
I saw “Sweet Home Alabama”. I like how the heroine rejects the big phat diamond ring in favour of the dirty, muddy swamp.
In a perfect world, the ugly hodogs would be the ones finding the golden Craig David CDs.
Fashion Tip: If you are fat, you should not wear black mesh clothing. By fat I’m not talking about medical definitions. I mean fat as in “OMG, I ate two muffins. I am such a fat cow!” – the internal body police. Don’t wear black mesh. It never looks good on fat girls.
I’m going to Hammo tonight. I’m going to hang out with a bunch of girls I went to school with. Only they’re not not girls anymore – they’re mothers. Not “baaaad mutha” mothers, but “got pregnant, had a kid” mothers. I’m the odd one out.
Is it better to make a lot of varied new years resolutions and end up maybe only sticking with one or two, or to make only a few resolutions, but to make the effort and stick with them? Or should we just forget about resolutions and start a revolution?
OMG! The Justin Timberlake is on TV! So, so, so hot.
* It’s interesting how The Vines CD – which normally has a green cover, with a hippyish design involving green vines – has a plastic overwrap with a different cover design. It’s black with red squiggles. Less hippyish and far more rock ‘n’ roll.
* I bought a cool shirt today. Actually, it’s only partially cool because I couldn’t get it in the size I wanted, but I don’t care. It may be my BDO shirt.
* I was just thinking about how people plan well in advance what they will wear to the Big Day Out. Ten years ago (shit) at the first BDO in Auckland, I remember all the alterno-boys showing up with blue and green food colouring in their hair. That was also in the days before cheap cell phones, so when I got separated from my friend during Head Like A Hole, I just had to wander around for a couple of hours before I happened to find her. Things were smaller back then, only two stages, no dance music tent. That was also when “smart drinks” were big (and about three years before energy drinks showed up). I had two and I don’t think I got any smarter.
* The Alt Dot show on M2 needs to change. It seems bogged down by all that dreary indie music that is too busy either a) trying to be like Radiohead or b) trying to be artistic and serious, that it forgets about being not-boring. Like, if M2 want people to watch it (more viewers = more expensive advertising rates = less of those adult chatline ads), then they need to stop sending people to sleep at 2.45 am.
* Actually, I know that M2 has an anti-pop policy, but it’d be nice to see some good pop videos. I mean, I know it’s nice to diss pop and use words like “manufactured” and “soulless”, but there’s a lot of pop that isn’t shit. I want to see the new Justin Timberlake video so much more than I want to see a video of a guy playing his guitar, hanging his head, singing in monotone.
One takeaway latte, made by the bass player in one of my favourite bands of all time. So now everything is ok. Cranky-ass bitch? She’s gone. I’m happy and inspired now!
1. Browsing around Raglan Dealers brings up all sorts of dilemmas. Should I buy the collection of bridge scoring pads and folders? Or what about an old cigarette tin? Or maybe I should get those leather shorts?
2. There used to be a cafe called Molasses. It was sold and the new owners have called it the Aqua Velvet Ballroom. This is troublesome for various reasons. First, naming a cafe after Aqua Velva, that cheap aftershave, is kinda weird. And it’s not a cafe anymore, it’s now a ballroom. Except I doubt that there would ever be a ball held there. It’s like ballrooms in hotels that only ever seem to house conferences and motivational speakers. But the worst bit is that they’ve taken down the cool metal Molasses sign and replaced it with a couple of boring painted signs with the new name.
Also: I hate TV news. Tonight there was an item about a question on “Who wants to be a millionaire” that had two possible correct answers. OMG OMG OMG!!! I know that news is typically slow at this time of year, but, really.