Thursday, January 15, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Followers... ZERO
Zero Followers - *sigh* (and yet I feel truly blessed and loved by many friends and family - perhaps they just can't read...?)
What a sad state of affairs... its the first thing that jumps out at me when I open this page. Let's face it. No one gives a rats arse about this blog - except me... its been a long time since I kept any sort of a diary - I used to... I had this magnificent account of all the angst going through my teenage years - the tears, the tantys, the broken hearts, the poetry, the crushes, the err... 'list'. It was awesome. Purple hardback which I lovingly decorated with the AC/DC logo that adorned anything I had that could be written on. And the stories...oh the stories... the memories, the rose-tinted tales that were yet to go horribly wrong and the horribly wrong situations that were yet to have closure. The flirtations and heart flutters and repetitive entries of "guess what! HE SPOKE TO ME" or "we had to squish up together in the car to fit everyone in so he told me to sit on his knee" etc etc - the excitable ramblings of a teenage girl, hormones exploding with the need to be wanted, accepted, desired, loved and COOL.
My diary was a fascinating literary piece, it lived safely in the journalism folder that housed years of very very singy-songy poetry... born lyricist, thats me. From about the age of 13 up until 18 - which is a wonderful time to record your history and SO MUCH happened to me during those few years - left school, started work, lost jobs, found jobs, fell in love, fell into groups, fell out of groups, lost my virginity, became a Mum, oh all sorts and the dramas that unfolded in many situations. Memories and detail that live in my heart but have long since faded from my mind - that book was my reminder of where I had been, who I was, who I was becomming and where I was going - if ever I felt a little lost or needed cheering up I took it out, read it or wrote in it and I would feel so much better... Helen Field would have been proud... Bridget Jones's New Zealand equivalent rocking the pages long before the idea had manifested.
Then that horrible awful gut-wrenchingly painful day.
Someone with no right, no justification, no reason besides an insanely fuelled internal battle with the demon jealousy - envy for unknown names, unknown places, times, a past and memories that were not their own - not their life - NOT THEIR JOURNEY... blinded by rage and ghosts of times gone by, voices in the head and internal inadequacies.... calously destroyed my beautiful biography.
I'm not sure how long before I noticed it was missing.
The second I did I could almost smell the fire...taste the ash... it was gone. Incinerated with the scrub from the construction of a new home. A place we were to grow old in, raise our family and live happily ever after in a loving, trusting environment.
You bastard.
I would have put up with a thousand black eyes, and a million nights of drunk bullshit and abuse but none would come close to the pure evil of burning someone's memories. The pain from that runs barely a hair-fracture second to the defiant ignorance, neglect and hatred that was showered upon an innocent child and both have an infinite degree of unacceptability the like which no mathematician can calculate in this world or another universe - ever.
For a long time I didn't write anything except poetry. Sad, lonely singy-songy poetry influenced by sad, lonely songs... and sadness... oh and lonelyness - better throw in a good dollop of hurt as well I reckon. But over the years I've written some short stories, plays and some bloody brilliant letters and emails to friends - many of which I kept meticulously and I hope to god I can extract them later when needed. But up until now... I hadn't kept anything personal really - there's a journal I started when the Bridget Jones craze came out but I really didn't stay on a roll. Now I kind of am - I have to get used to the fact that this IS a diary that people ARE permitted to be a part of... but as is with most things in my life these days - shrouded in humour to detract the hungry reader from the real me.
Okay stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP! Heavy... very heavy.
So ZERO FOLLOWERS - you can kiss my tighty whitey quite frankly coz if anything else... I entertained myself immensley - plus killed 30 minutes making the day go faster and get closer to the weekend PLUS offloaded what must have been worth at LEAST $4K worth of therapy - FOR FREE!
HAHA! And that's why they call me Vikki Stylz :-)
Peace - have a groovy weekend.
xxx
What a sad state of affairs... its the first thing that jumps out at me when I open this page. Let's face it. No one gives a rats arse about this blog - except me... its been a long time since I kept any sort of a diary - I used to... I had this magnificent account of all the angst going through my teenage years - the tears, the tantys, the broken hearts, the poetry, the crushes, the err... 'list'. It was awesome. Purple hardback which I lovingly decorated with the AC/DC logo that adorned anything I had that could be written on. And the stories...oh the stories... the memories, the rose-tinted tales that were yet to go horribly wrong and the horribly wrong situations that were yet to have closure. The flirtations and heart flutters and repetitive entries of "guess what! HE SPOKE TO ME" or "we had to squish up together in the car to fit everyone in so he told me to sit on his knee" etc etc - the excitable ramblings of a teenage girl, hormones exploding with the need to be wanted, accepted, desired, loved and COOL.
My diary was a fascinating literary piece, it lived safely in the journalism folder that housed years of very very singy-songy poetry... born lyricist, thats me. From about the age of 13 up until 18 - which is a wonderful time to record your history and SO MUCH happened to me during those few years - left school, started work, lost jobs, found jobs, fell in love, fell into groups, fell out of groups, lost my virginity, became a Mum, oh all sorts and the dramas that unfolded in many situations. Memories and detail that live in my heart but have long since faded from my mind - that book was my reminder of where I had been, who I was, who I was becomming and where I was going - if ever I felt a little lost or needed cheering up I took it out, read it or wrote in it and I would feel so much better... Helen Field would have been proud... Bridget Jones's New Zealand equivalent rocking the pages long before the idea had manifested.
Then that horrible awful gut-wrenchingly painful day.
Someone with no right, no justification, no reason besides an insanely fuelled internal battle with the demon jealousy - envy for unknown names, unknown places, times, a past and memories that were not their own - not their life - NOT THEIR JOURNEY... blinded by rage and ghosts of times gone by, voices in the head and internal inadequacies.... calously destroyed my beautiful biography.
I'm not sure how long before I noticed it was missing.
The second I did I could almost smell the fire...taste the ash... it was gone. Incinerated with the scrub from the construction of a new home. A place we were to grow old in, raise our family and live happily ever after in a loving, trusting environment.
You bastard.
I would have put up with a thousand black eyes, and a million nights of drunk bullshit and abuse but none would come close to the pure evil of burning someone's memories. The pain from that runs barely a hair-fracture second to the defiant ignorance, neglect and hatred that was showered upon an innocent child and both have an infinite degree of unacceptability the like which no mathematician can calculate in this world or another universe - ever.
For a long time I didn't write anything except poetry. Sad, lonely singy-songy poetry influenced by sad, lonely songs... and sadness... oh and lonelyness - better throw in a good dollop of hurt as well I reckon. But over the years I've written some short stories, plays and some bloody brilliant letters and emails to friends - many of which I kept meticulously and I hope to god I can extract them later when needed. But up until now... I hadn't kept anything personal really - there's a journal I started when the Bridget Jones craze came out but I really didn't stay on a roll. Now I kind of am - I have to get used to the fact that this IS a diary that people ARE permitted to be a part of... but as is with most things in my life these days - shrouded in humour to detract the hungry reader from the real me.
Okay stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP! Heavy... very heavy.
So ZERO FOLLOWERS - you can kiss my tighty whitey quite frankly coz if anything else... I entertained myself immensley - plus killed 30 minutes making the day go faster and get closer to the weekend PLUS offloaded what must have been worth at LEAST $4K worth of therapy - FOR FREE!
HAHA! And that's why they call me Vikki Stylz :-)
Peace - have a groovy weekend.
xxx
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Shhhh...
Okay... secret squirrel... I'm 'bloggin' on the job.
Its 8.30am and I just can't be arsed diving into work mode just yet. Probably something to do with the anxiety attacks I've had since Friday about having to come back into the stale air-conned environment and losing my tan (coz brown fat looks better than white fat and I'm still in disguise mode... no, no I HAVEN'T found those extra 5kg that my other colleague seems to have evaporated off... no its just because I'm so BROWN you see the er... SHADING gives the illusion that I am more CURVACIOUS...) Oh who AM I kidding.
Despite some crazy sleep patterns over the last few days (and OUT-OF-IT dreams!) I'm doin okay. I broke my 'back at work lay off the piss' rule fairly quickly. Monday to be exact. But it was worth it. Just a little squiffy to get me through without people noticing how bad my DT's are.
Anyhoo... I digress... I was going to fill you in on how the opera pool party went and how I spent my last few days of vacation. Well suffice to say when I finally crawed out of the 'playhouse' Saturday brunchtime and took a look at the night captured in all its digital photographic glory I was... quite frankly... horrified. I now see how the whole 'scared straight' tactic works. Althought the night was one of the best times I've had in ages I obviously lost all inhibition and decorum. It must have been the beautiful Waitakere bush setting, the lovely day, the good wine, the fine fine company, great conversation and belly laughs galore. And opera... for a little while... although that was quickly replaced by middle-eastern dancing... which was awesome - especially when you have a cape that you can fling around passionately while doing moves you thought were lost a decade ago. Totally totally awesome.
Fast forward to the morning... yeah so I wake up in the little cottage sleep out (absolutely gorgeous) that we affectionately christened 'The Playhouse' because it was just like the one my Dad made me when I was a little girl. Feeling a little stiff, foggy and with really sore knees. Turns out at some point I fell up the stairs but it looks suspiciously like carpet burn - of which it is not I can assure you. My lovely friend however came of worst of all - appparently during our passionately portrayal of middle eastern beauties she came butt-to-armrest with one of her chairs (so reported the only sober attendee of our soiree - her partner) so with her broken bum and my scraped knees we then cringed at the photographic evidence of our drunken shenanagans... but oh it was worth it... so very worth it.
Suffice to say the Saturday evening was fairly quiet - as was the Sunday. Sleeping was appauling - dreams of evil spirits and strange encounters disrupted my plan for a refreshed relaxed look and attitude coming back to the office. One particular dream involved some form of dancing but all the people involved were big round air-filled balls - not unlike Voilet the human blueberry from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I remember being half-awake and half within the strange twilight zone of the state of alpha slumber and rolling back and forth in my bed over and over until I was semi-strangled by sheets and had to wake up to avoid death by 70-count cotton.
Monday was awesome. I hit the office with gusto. Prepared for the onslaught of what I had walked out on in disgust way back in 2008. By about 2pm I was knackered, my brain hurt, my eyes were dry, my vision wobbly and my feet were killing me - why oh why can we not wear our shorts and jandals to work???!!! I then get a call from my Sister - come over tonight for the Monday night special - its the one night when they and all 4 kids get together, open door policy, food for Africa - "come, come! Haven't seen you since New Year's Eve Eve... bring the boy" so we go. And we enjoy and we eat and I drink and we sing Kareoke and then we come home and I am so thankful that I have an 18-year-old who is awesome and everyone loves and who can drive me home...
So that's the week so far. Have made it to Wednesday and am slowly coming to terms with things. Goal for January 09: declutter. Just a few things that are well overdue for a tidy-up. Including ME!!! Gotta go - my 9.30 is here!
Ciao!! Wish me luck!
xxx
Its 8.30am and I just can't be arsed diving into work mode just yet. Probably something to do with the anxiety attacks I've had since Friday about having to come back into the stale air-conned environment and losing my tan (coz brown fat looks better than white fat and I'm still in disguise mode... no, no I HAVEN'T found those extra 5kg that my other colleague seems to have evaporated off... no its just because I'm so BROWN you see the er... SHADING gives the illusion that I am more CURVACIOUS...) Oh who AM I kidding.
Despite some crazy sleep patterns over the last few days (and OUT-OF-IT dreams!) I'm doin okay. I broke my 'back at work lay off the piss' rule fairly quickly. Monday to be exact. But it was worth it. Just a little squiffy to get me through without people noticing how bad my DT's are.
Anyhoo... I digress... I was going to fill you in on how the opera pool party went and how I spent my last few days of vacation. Well suffice to say when I finally crawed out of the 'playhouse' Saturday brunchtime and took a look at the night captured in all its digital photographic glory I was... quite frankly... horrified. I now see how the whole 'scared straight' tactic works. Althought the night was one of the best times I've had in ages I obviously lost all inhibition and decorum. It must have been the beautiful Waitakere bush setting, the lovely day, the good wine, the fine fine company, great conversation and belly laughs galore. And opera... for a little while... although that was quickly replaced by middle-eastern dancing... which was awesome - especially when you have a cape that you can fling around passionately while doing moves you thought were lost a decade ago. Totally totally awesome.
Fast forward to the morning... yeah so I wake up in the little cottage sleep out (absolutely gorgeous) that we affectionately christened 'The Playhouse' because it was just like the one my Dad made me when I was a little girl. Feeling a little stiff, foggy and with really sore knees. Turns out at some point I fell up the stairs but it looks suspiciously like carpet burn - of which it is not I can assure you. My lovely friend however came of worst of all - appparently during our passionately portrayal of middle eastern beauties she came butt-to-armrest with one of her chairs (so reported the only sober attendee of our soiree - her partner) so with her broken bum and my scraped knees we then cringed at the photographic evidence of our drunken shenanagans... but oh it was worth it... so very worth it.
Suffice to say the Saturday evening was fairly quiet - as was the Sunday. Sleeping was appauling - dreams of evil spirits and strange encounters disrupted my plan for a refreshed relaxed look and attitude coming back to the office. One particular dream involved some form of dancing but all the people involved were big round air-filled balls - not unlike Voilet the human blueberry from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I remember being half-awake and half within the strange twilight zone of the state of alpha slumber and rolling back and forth in my bed over and over until I was semi-strangled by sheets and had to wake up to avoid death by 70-count cotton.
Monday was awesome. I hit the office with gusto. Prepared for the onslaught of what I had walked out on in disgust way back in 2008. By about 2pm I was knackered, my brain hurt, my eyes were dry, my vision wobbly and my feet were killing me - why oh why can we not wear our shorts and jandals to work???!!! I then get a call from my Sister - come over tonight for the Monday night special - its the one night when they and all 4 kids get together, open door policy, food for Africa - "come, come! Haven't seen you since New Year's Eve Eve... bring the boy" so we go. And we enjoy and we eat and I drink and we sing Kareoke and then we come home and I am so thankful that I have an 18-year-old who is awesome and everyone loves and who can drive me home...
So that's the week so far. Have made it to Wednesday and am slowly coming to terms with things. Goal for January 09: declutter. Just a few things that are well overdue for a tidy-up. Including ME!!! Gotta go - my 9.30 is here!
Ciao!! Wish me luck!
xxx
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Well bugger me...
Well this is either a place to ponder or some kind of show-off diary - since no one reads it then its probably a bit of both. Figured I had better get some typing practice in before the inevitable return to wwww... wwahhh.... ah feck it - see other post. As it happens I've had to hit the backspace key around 300 times in the last two sentances... crikey. I suck.
I'm killing a bit of time as I'm off to a friends soon for sun, pool, wine and opera. Me opera? Absolutely... it seems after at least 2.4 bottles of something I know ALL the words. I rock at lipsyncing the ole opry... awesome. A talent held by very few I suspect. It is an amazing experience though I must say - my darling friend - gorgeous thespian from way back - has a delightful bohemian style of which I suck up like a leech in a popular watering hole. She even has the velvet cloaks of which we bust out, under the burn of candles and act out the heartwrenching scenes twittering through her distorted minisystem. Oh I can see your eyebrows rise from here. Yes it does sound slightly quirky but I tell ya its a helluva lot of fun and fantastic for the soul... but you'll never know. The opera appreciation society for lipsynching non-sopranos is a private club and the chances of you actually seeing it in action is little to feck all.
So that's what I have to look forward to today - which is awesome. Been a little lonely this holidays to be honest. Maybe its an age thing. Maybe I need to get hitched. Maybe my defiance for the horrendous idea that is nuptuals and marital bliss needs to be squashed a little. Living for so long as an independent has given me a rather stiff and cynical opinion of the idea of wedded bliss. Its distracted me from the more important element of the blessed union of two people... TWU WUV. Maybe 2009 will melt this heart and I will meet the entity that is the M.O.M.D. What's that mean you dare ask? Man of my dreams of course. I have to lay off the piss though because if the recent men in my ACTUAL dreams are involved in this future I am quite frankly either developing early-set senility or just screwed.
Must away... pop into the offy for the obligatory opera-invoking juice and head into the delights and peace that is the Waitakere's... but before I depart... there was action in my small suburb yesterday... more action than just drunk teenagers smashing the bus stop for the upteenth time or a 'drift' that went horribly wrong and wiped out the neighbours fence (that's him 2, me 1). No no... for some reason someone decided that playing with a 'crossbow' in a small cramped western suburb in the middle of a scorching hot day was er, fun. Until the mechanism exploded 'unexpectadly' it was reported and the crossbow bolt flew smack into the eyeball of the next-door neighbour who consequently has had surgery and they are not quite sure whether she'll still have sight in her eye. The shooter... immediately called the coppers and dobbed himself in. Much excitement.
Well I've just heard from my opry buddy who is running late... typical when I've been ready since 9am. So I might have to dribble on for some time as it seems now I have an hour longer to kill that anticipated. In saying that... I'm a little peckish so I might sign off and go eat some highly unsatisfying lettuce leaves.
I trust the whole 'lonely', 'marriage' thing goes no further than us... besides I was just rambling... chances of me actually doing something that ludicrous are a million to one... like the aliens from War of the Worlds which is probably where the M.O.M.D is currently hanging.... freakin mars coz he sure aint here on earth and I've turned over many a West Auckland rock in search of. If you are out there MOMD and you just happen upon this wee literary delight... please get in touch, I appear to be in my prime and have let my guard down slightly when it comes to defying marriage I'd get in now mate... come the feck on honey, I have the attention span of a natt. Whatever that is...
And to you, my no-existant reader... If you by chance have seen the MOMD... give him a kick up the arse for me, tell him to grow some chesnuts and get on with it because once he does... he'll never look back, he'll wonder what the feck took him so long and of course...we all know what a lucky man he'll be :-)
Okay I'm off to cry into my mesculin then go fake opera. Coz that's how I roll.....
xxxxxx
I'm killing a bit of time as I'm off to a friends soon for sun, pool, wine and opera. Me opera? Absolutely... it seems after at least 2.4 bottles of something I know ALL the words. I rock at lipsyncing the ole opry... awesome. A talent held by very few I suspect. It is an amazing experience though I must say - my darling friend - gorgeous thespian from way back - has a delightful bohemian style of which I suck up like a leech in a popular watering hole. She even has the velvet cloaks of which we bust out, under the burn of candles and act out the heartwrenching scenes twittering through her distorted minisystem. Oh I can see your eyebrows rise from here. Yes it does sound slightly quirky but I tell ya its a helluva lot of fun and fantastic for the soul... but you'll never know. The opera appreciation society for lipsynching non-sopranos is a private club and the chances of you actually seeing it in action is little to feck all.
So that's what I have to look forward to today - which is awesome. Been a little lonely this holidays to be honest. Maybe its an age thing. Maybe I need to get hitched. Maybe my defiance for the horrendous idea that is nuptuals and marital bliss needs to be squashed a little. Living for so long as an independent has given me a rather stiff and cynical opinion of the idea of wedded bliss. Its distracted me from the more important element of the blessed union of two people... TWU WUV. Maybe 2009 will melt this heart and I will meet the entity that is the M.O.M.D. What's that mean you dare ask? Man of my dreams of course. I have to lay off the piss though because if the recent men in my ACTUAL dreams are involved in this future I am quite frankly either developing early-set senility or just screwed.
Must away... pop into the offy for the obligatory opera-invoking juice and head into the delights and peace that is the Waitakere's... but before I depart... there was action in my small suburb yesterday... more action than just drunk teenagers smashing the bus stop for the upteenth time or a 'drift' that went horribly wrong and wiped out the neighbours fence (that's him 2, me 1). No no... for some reason someone decided that playing with a 'crossbow' in a small cramped western suburb in the middle of a scorching hot day was er, fun. Until the mechanism exploded 'unexpectadly' it was reported and the crossbow bolt flew smack into the eyeball of the next-door neighbour who consequently has had surgery and they are not quite sure whether she'll still have sight in her eye. The shooter... immediately called the coppers and dobbed himself in. Much excitement.
Well I've just heard from my opry buddy who is running late... typical when I've been ready since 9am. So I might have to dribble on for some time as it seems now I have an hour longer to kill that anticipated. In saying that... I'm a little peckish so I might sign off and go eat some highly unsatisfying lettuce leaves.
I trust the whole 'lonely', 'marriage' thing goes no further than us... besides I was just rambling... chances of me actually doing something that ludicrous are a million to one... like the aliens from War of the Worlds which is probably where the M.O.M.D is currently hanging.... freakin mars coz he sure aint here on earth and I've turned over many a West Auckland rock in search of. If you are out there MOMD and you just happen upon this wee literary delight... please get in touch, I appear to be in my prime and have let my guard down slightly when it comes to defying marriage I'd get in now mate... come the feck on honey, I have the attention span of a natt. Whatever that is...
And to you, my no-existant reader... If you by chance have seen the MOMD... give him a kick up the arse for me, tell him to grow some chesnuts and get on with it because once he does... he'll never look back, he'll wonder what the feck took him so long and of course...we all know what a lucky man he'll be :-)
Okay I'm off to cry into my mesculin then go fake opera. Coz that's how I roll.....
xxxxxx
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
It's the final countdown...
Ugh.
I'm trying desperately not to to let it seep into the pores of my last few sun-soaked days of vacation but its a seemingly IMPOSSIBLE task... I shudder at the mear thought of typing the word so I won't... but it starts with W and rhymes with ... sherk. Which is exactly what I would like to do... sherk it. It seemed so long ago that I was thinking - wow... what a lovely long holiday... what shall I do to pass the time... now there is sheer panic.. "FAA-AA-AAAAA-RK!!!! I still haven't [insert any random 'I'magonna' line spilled last year when repeatedly asked "ssoo... wotcha gunna do over the break?"
I did nothing I said I would. Nadda. Silch. But I HAVE had a fantastic break. Only a slight sunburn... coupled with the extra pounds that exploded through the infinite canal that is my throat... makes the undies a wee bit wedgyish but hey... what can you do huh? Its the holidays... the kiwi lifestyle - catching up with friends you had full intentions of catching up with for the last 6 months but it was either 1) too cold 2) too wet 3) to dam wintery 4) too busy leading up to crazy season 5) too busy with all other offers leading up to crazy season. So what do we do? "Oh come on round, bring a bottle.... or 3... or a magnum plus a back-up... or 24 lion reds and a dozen woodys... Yes thanks to me being such a crap friend through the year I have succeeded in being greeted personally by all 56 staff members at the local offy. Awesome. Am a pisshead with a big bellie - BUT have golden tan and we all know that brown fat looks better than white fat so I feel ever so slightly triumphant.
I didn't make any New Years resolutions this year. Not publically anyway. I would just let people down - especially myself and I just can't take that kind of self-fladulation (is that how you spell that word?). Not during the hangover days anyway. I guess I will continue to be the surprising, slightly freakish, spontaneous rebel that I am and try like fark not to take the buttholes of this world too seriously. I'll try going a bit 'national geographic' and 're-discover' myself.... but whether that sticks will remain to be seen. I do have a few 'hopes' for this year... which I'd be happy to share with you... [echo echo]
1) Date
2) Fall in love
3) Try not to wet pants when sneezing.
4) Remain brown but not just to disguise fat
5) Laugh lots and lots and lots
Hmmm... looks doable. Let's see shall we???
Lotsaluv and squdges
xxx
I'm trying desperately not to to let it seep into the pores of my last few sun-soaked days of vacation but its a seemingly IMPOSSIBLE task... I shudder at the mear thought of typing the word so I won't... but it starts with W and rhymes with ... sherk. Which is exactly what I would like to do... sherk it. It seemed so long ago that I was thinking - wow... what a lovely long holiday... what shall I do to pass the time... now there is sheer panic.. "FAA-AA-AAAAA-RK!!!! I still haven't [insert any random 'I'magonna' line spilled last year when repeatedly asked "ssoo... wotcha gunna do over the break?"
I did nothing I said I would. Nadda. Silch. But I HAVE had a fantastic break. Only a slight sunburn... coupled with the extra pounds that exploded through the infinite canal that is my throat... makes the undies a wee bit wedgyish but hey... what can you do huh? Its the holidays... the kiwi lifestyle - catching up with friends you had full intentions of catching up with for the last 6 months but it was either 1) too cold 2) too wet 3) to dam wintery 4) too busy leading up to crazy season 5) too busy with all other offers leading up to crazy season. So what do we do? "Oh come on round, bring a bottle.... or 3... or a magnum plus a back-up... or 24 lion reds and a dozen woodys... Yes thanks to me being such a crap friend through the year I have succeeded in being greeted personally by all 56 staff members at the local offy. Awesome. Am a pisshead with a big bellie - BUT have golden tan and we all know that brown fat looks better than white fat so I feel ever so slightly triumphant.
I didn't make any New Years resolutions this year. Not publically anyway. I would just let people down - especially myself and I just can't take that kind of self-fladulation (is that how you spell that word?). Not during the hangover days anyway. I guess I will continue to be the surprising, slightly freakish, spontaneous rebel that I am and try like fark not to take the buttholes of this world too seriously. I'll try going a bit 'national geographic' and 're-discover' myself.... but whether that sticks will remain to be seen. I do have a few 'hopes' for this year... which I'd be happy to share with you... [echo echo]
1) Date
2) Fall in love
3) Try not to wet pants when sneezing.
4) Remain brown but not just to disguise fat
5) Laugh lots and lots and lots
Hmmm... looks doable. Let's see shall we???
Lotsaluv and squdges
xxx
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Tis the season...
Merry Xmas one and none (no one reads this blog anyway). Happy New Year too.
It's been a fun one for me... I always detest the lead-up but love the moment. This year the days leading up to celebrating the birth of the baby hay-zus were nothing short of suckful. But that was last year. The glass is still half-full and Karma's a bitch.
I made the horrendous mistake of 'whipping out to the shops' on Chrismas eve day... now I've made some mistakes in my life but I do chalk this excursion up to one of my finer moments of pure stupidity. But I did not punch, swear or get stroppy... and what do you know - a car park opened up like a golden gate in front of me - how fortunate was I. the fact that it was located an entire suburb away did not disway me from venturing into the B-O fragrant sesspool that is the mighty westfield mall.
Once in the core of the volcano of west Auckland shopping frenzy it wasn't so bad... naturally all of the items that drove me into the mall madness originally were sold out but in the end the compromise was just as good if not better. I even bumped into a friend who shouted me one of those deliciously overpriced TANK slushy thingies. I then scooted to the supermarket just to get the Christmas Day essentials but conveniently forgot that I had to hike the length of the desert road to get back to the car - with all my purchases. Including bottled water... that's not light. I couldn't feel my fingers for 3 hours.
But let's skip to Xmas day... nice and relaxed - amazing how laid back you feel after you've stuck your hand up a turkey's arse. Was the beginning of a wonderful bonding experience with my Mum - shelling pees on the front veranda with a glass of bubbly... making a delicious cheesecake of which I had none of due to an overdose of turkey. Watching my boy and my brother misbehave with their toy dart guns - seems they had a hidden automatic heatseeking device attached to them at they found it screamingly funny how many tarts successfully attacked my fleshy gluts.
Skip to Boxing Day... bit of a foggy head but no too bad - until I was kidnapped (or should that be pushing-40-napped???) My brother and his wift bundled me into their housetruck and screamed off towards the sunny beachside town of Athenree in Waihi... where I proceeded to have quite a good time! We posed drunk on large pohutukawa trees - worked the pole on a catamaran and ran around the reserve like lunatics. It was awesome.
Came home to sleep after two nights away and then collected my beloved Rhino. After a few emotional moments of reconnection with my beautiful truck... I then did something entirely uncharacteristic of me ... I did a 'pop in'. and unlike the norm where theres no one home - they were... suffice to say we busted out the 8% Cody's, kareoke and got good and almightily hammered - at some point I was wearing a purple wig... just coz.
Of course this impromtu soiree made me about ooh 8 hours late for a trip down south to the all day pajama NYE party I was committed to attending but I got there. It kind of was a last minute decision anyway but I am most pleased I went... saw the new year in already ready for bed - the fact I did not actually sucumb to sleep until about 6.30 am New Year's Day is irrelevent.
So that's my Christmas - condensed and edited for television. Favorite moment... singing in the truck on the way to Waihi and family. Least favorite moment... those New Years kisses you are expected to give without vomiting. Resolutions... well... I don't know. Stay sane... lose weight... try to laugh more than I cry and perhaps finally start dating again... I'm sure Hugh Jackman is just waiting until I'm ready for a serious relationship... yes, yes that's what it is for sure.
Enjoy 2009
xxxx
It's been a fun one for me... I always detest the lead-up but love the moment. This year the days leading up to celebrating the birth of the baby hay-zus were nothing short of suckful. But that was last year. The glass is still half-full and Karma's a bitch.
I made the horrendous mistake of 'whipping out to the shops' on Chrismas eve day... now I've made some mistakes in my life but I do chalk this excursion up to one of my finer moments of pure stupidity. But I did not punch, swear or get stroppy... and what do you know - a car park opened up like a golden gate in front of me - how fortunate was I. the fact that it was located an entire suburb away did not disway me from venturing into the B-O fragrant sesspool that is the mighty westfield mall.
Once in the core of the volcano of west Auckland shopping frenzy it wasn't so bad... naturally all of the items that drove me into the mall madness originally were sold out but in the end the compromise was just as good if not better. I even bumped into a friend who shouted me one of those deliciously overpriced TANK slushy thingies. I then scooted to the supermarket just to get the Christmas Day essentials but conveniently forgot that I had to hike the length of the desert road to get back to the car - with all my purchases. Including bottled water... that's not light. I couldn't feel my fingers for 3 hours.
But let's skip to Xmas day... nice and relaxed - amazing how laid back you feel after you've stuck your hand up a turkey's arse. Was the beginning of a wonderful bonding experience with my Mum - shelling pees on the front veranda with a glass of bubbly... making a delicious cheesecake of which I had none of due to an overdose of turkey. Watching my boy and my brother misbehave with their toy dart guns - seems they had a hidden automatic heatseeking device attached to them at they found it screamingly funny how many tarts successfully attacked my fleshy gluts.
Skip to Boxing Day... bit of a foggy head but no too bad - until I was kidnapped (or should that be pushing-40-napped???) My brother and his wift bundled me into their housetruck and screamed off towards the sunny beachside town of Athenree in Waihi... where I proceeded to have quite a good time! We posed drunk on large pohutukawa trees - worked the pole on a catamaran and ran around the reserve like lunatics. It was awesome.
Came home to sleep after two nights away and then collected my beloved Rhino. After a few emotional moments of reconnection with my beautiful truck... I then did something entirely uncharacteristic of me ... I did a 'pop in'. and unlike the norm where theres no one home - they were... suffice to say we busted out the 8% Cody's, kareoke and got good and almightily hammered - at some point I was wearing a purple wig... just coz.
Of course this impromtu soiree made me about ooh 8 hours late for a trip down south to the all day pajama NYE party I was committed to attending but I got there. It kind of was a last minute decision anyway but I am most pleased I went... saw the new year in already ready for bed - the fact I did not actually sucumb to sleep until about 6.30 am New Year's Day is irrelevent.
So that's my Christmas - condensed and edited for television. Favorite moment... singing in the truck on the way to Waihi and family. Least favorite moment... those New Years kisses you are expected to give without vomiting. Resolutions... well... I don't know. Stay sane... lose weight... try to laugh more than I cry and perhaps finally start dating again... I'm sure Hugh Jackman is just waiting until I'm ready for a serious relationship... yes, yes that's what it is for sure.
Enjoy 2009
xxxx
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