Bitter Blue and Taking it to the Top

Friday night was my dad's big retirement do. It was held in council chambers and it was packed - 130 people, some of them standing. That was nice. And three present and past mayors were in attendance.
Dad was in charge of the district council's finances, essentially, for 30 years. He did the annual report and decided on what the rates would be (certainly not a job that lends itself to popularity - you can't please everyone). He was pretty much second in charge, after the CEO, for a lot of the time he was there.
Highlights included

• A waiata where they'd rewritten the Bob Dylan classic into 'Hey Mr Treasurer Man'. Dad is a massive Bob fan, so good choice.
• A scripted court case, with bailif, judge, prosector, defence lawyer, affidavits and a jury. Pretty funny - four charges were raised (inciting the strike of 1989, bowing and curtseying to the prince when he visisted, rarking up the nutter who writes letters to the paper every week criticising the council and.... something else). Nice play on our surname.
• Presents - a beautiful tokotoko carved especially (Dad uses a walking stick quite often anyhow, since his feet are both numb) - it has a man and woman (him and his wife) and two families intertwined underneath them (two lines that curve around the bottom of the stick). It feels just right when you hold it. A good nod to the fact that he's fairly well respected and known as being a bit of an orator (loves his speeches).

But the best of all....

• Uncle Peter and Aunty Ann had driven up from Wellington to be there. Now, this is a hullaballoo for the Wellington Judges. They only make the trip once or twice a year, and they always complain about the traffic. They all arrived a little late and immediately started moaning about Otaki and Paekakariki.... and said it took 'one and a half hours'! Erm...... it always takes me about that long.... an hour 20 if it's Sunday morning.... And they left at 5pm on a Friday night - they did bloody well to get there in under two hours!
• Anyhow, I digress. He told me about how Aunty Ann had stopped in Levin on the way through, a month ago. She'd taken Nana to Mr Bun's for lunch. She'd gone to put some money in the meter (40c an hour) and it had said ERROR. So she'd put some money in another meter. Now, turns out that in Levin each meter is for a particular bay of parks, and you have to pay for your number.... so paying on the wrong meter didn't work. She got sent a ticket.
• They were obviously indignant and outraged. Uncle Peter is quite hard-case, so once we were having drinks and nibbles, after all the speeches, he'd figured out which guy the mayor was. He went right up to him and started telling him the story of the parking fine. The mayor kinda played along (gets this kinda thing all the time, no doubt). He thought my uncle was kidding.
• But then he pulled the actual letter they got in the post out of his pocket - they had come prepared! He saw the CEO of the council walking by too, and pulled him into the conversation. It went on for quite some time - it turned into this good spirited debate.
• Meanwhile, the rest of the family were standing nearby, whispering to each other, 'Is he really showing the mayor his ticket? In the middle of nibbles? Nooooo!' But laughing. It was hilarious. His wife was mortified.
• Take it right to the top! It was his last chance to get this ticket sorted swiftly, while Dad was still on the pay-roll.

* * *
We had a good netball game tonight.

• Good in that it was high quality play and you had to earn your points
• Good in that we played ok and were leading for bits of the game
• Good in that the other team generally played in good spirit and were physical, but not dangerous

We had a bad netball game tonight.

• Bad in that we'd asked not to have a certain ref (our first request this season), but he was the very ref we got.
• He lets games get ridiculously physical, which is never going to suit us and frankly isn't that much fun. And we knew that's the way this game would head, if we didn't have a competent ref.
• Bad in that we were there before he'd even started the clock and the other team didn't arrived until 6 minutes left... and yet he refused to give us five bonus points because we didn't have five players on the court in the first minute.
• We were standing beside the court chatting, and three of our players were on the courting shooting around ... thinking it was going to be a typical Sunday-default game.
• There were little kids playing around on our court, so it didn't exactly look urgent that we got on. Grr. Most refs would, if they were going to be so 'by the book' about it, call out to you 'Get two more players on the court if you want your bonus points'. Not a hard thing to do.
• And bad in that we lost by two, on a shot at the buzzer. And did a few bad things ourselves (amongst the good).

A bit rubbish though. I'm of the opinion that you can't really blame the ref for losing - it's a pretty extreme case where the ref has that much impact. A good team can usually just play to the ref, even if they're rubbish.

But it makes me feel a little bitter if they're rubbish in a way that suits the style of one of the teams, but not the other. Like tonight, he let the other team get away with a lot of contact on and off the ball, and man-for-man they were probably stronger than us (but using tactics like holding shirts and pushing you as you went for the ball).

Once it was obvious he wasn't calling them for it, you'd think twice about going for a 50/50 catch where you knew a six-foot-tall-rugby-player of a guy was also flying in for it.

And he was not calling replays very strictly, which seemed to favour them as they often fumbled then recovered (they did a lot of bullet passes that were tricky to catch), whereas we generally catch it or totally mess it up (slower, softer passes). So there were lots of times you just assumed he was about to call something against the other team, so you'd pause for a second.... but play would continue.

That's frustrating - they're running a business and we're paying money for a quality service. I wouldn't complain about the reffing in a school game, where's it's volunteers and nobody's making money out of it.

End of vent.

Jon Key is gonna be on Letterman.

Now all of America, who already watch Flight of the Conchords, are going to think we really are like that. John is a little similar to Murray. Maybe if any of the dozen or so spokesperson Rhys Darby has going at the moment dry up he could try going into the impersonating business. I'd like to see that.

We will come off like yokels. I guess we'll be down-to-earth yokels. Part of the charm.

Wednesday

I've always liked Wednesdays.

Even the word Wednesday is nice.

Good TV night. I have started checking a blog called The Dim-Post. The guy who writes it reminds me of Sheldon from 'The Big Bang Theory', if he cared about politics.

Netball was good tonight. An angst-free victory for Morgan and me playing the D.

My week continues on, with more crossing off of time in the exam-hall and quiet shuffling in my flat shoes. I walk like a ninja ghost.
There was also a lively mock-debate on the topic of whether Michael Jackson deserves our sympathy (after the negating team saying, 'But Miss, we don't want to be mean to him!').

And today

1. Invalid - getting the red pen out

I am that lady at the front of the class in Peanuts cartoons saying 'Wah wah wah wah wah...'.

It was not a good start when the first girl I walked up to before the exam said, 'Miss! I didn't know we had to write about THREE texts! I only studied for TWO!' I replied, 'Good luck then!'

Hit head against wall.

Then someone wrote in their first sentence that Film Noir were made in the 1930s. During revision time I had MADE them write down 1942-1958 (or if you can't remember that, say 'the 1940s and early 1950s'). I had repeated it many many times. I had made them chant it back to me.

Hit head again.

And that Harry Lime does not die at the end of Third Man. His best friend freakin' shoots him. It's a pretty massive part of the ending.

Repeat.

I am marking in reverse order, from the people who left the exam first to the ones who stayed the whole time. It should get better.

I have an eight page epic to look forward to - and it's the girl in the class who has the smallest, hardest to decipher handwriting of them all ('boy writing' if you will).

2. Inept

I, being a lady of leisure this week, went for coffee after lunch today.

I asked the waitor for a latte and piece of ginger loaf. He mumbled for a few seconds then said, 'That was a flat white, was it?'. No. Then he said, 'Oh yeah. And a piece of banana cake?' No. 'Do you want sugar with that?' No.

When he brought it over to my table, there was a packet of sugar on the side of my saucer.

3. Inconeivable - it's not actually Star Wars

District 9 sold out, half an hour before it was due to start. Who knew?

So we went to Sunshine Cleaning instead. I liked it. I may have been alone in that.

It had nice character development and a plucky lead. And a man with one arm. And they never explained how he lost it. There were lots of unexplained story details and sub-plots that were never resolved. I like that.

Life is full of unexplained one-armed men.

... and it had Big Words and no pictures!

I shall pause from demonising our fair country's 'leader'.

* * *

I finished reading my book ['book' being pronounced the way Strongbad would say it, to rhyme with 'nuke'].

I feel like I deserve a gold star or a certificate or something. I read it in one weekend! I really am a sporadic reader. Conditions need to be just right. If they are, I will read a book in a few days. If not, it will take me a year, or I might give up in the interim.

It was good. Not all that much happens, so not one for people who like epics or thrillers, maybe. It addresses some nice human issues of class and culture (and whether they are necessarily the same thing).

Bits of it were like trying to wade through Sophie's World, which I haven't managed to do yet. Other bits went by quite nicely.

Title: The Elegance of the Hedgehog
Author: Muriel Barbery
Country: France

What I liked

• It had a lovely soft cover with a matte finish and a built-in jacket you could tuck around your pages instead of using a bookmark


• There were two narrators - each one was shown in a different font (Times Roman type font for the older lady, Calibri font for the 12 year old - Calibri is the new and superior Arial) - I like it when books use font choice as part of the narrative. Why ignore visual language?


• Both narrators were grammar snobs


• There was a cocker-spaniel in the story (my childhood dog was a cocker-spaniel)


• All of the civilised characters drink tea as a ritual


• Both narrators like reading and watching movies (so do I)


• The ending is somewhat unexpected (the last few pages) - sudden, at the very least


• This quote: 'Tea and mangas instead of coffee and newspapers: something elegant and enchanting, instead of adult power struggles and their sad aggressiveness'


• 'Pschitt' - the onomatopoeic word the narrator uses to describe her mother spraying her pot-plants (it comes up several times as a metaphor for her child-rearing strategies)


• Short chapters


• The use of these words/phrases: dissonance, plebeian effluvia, clandestine, malaise, anesthetize, ephemeral, phantasms, Machiavellian, sanctimonious, esthetic, autodidacts, imbued

Things I didn't Like

• The chapters that were only about philosophical stuff


• The convenience of the make-over (maybe it was supposed to be Cinderella-ish)


• The inaccuracies in how the narrator described a fictional All Black player who leads the haka: 'Somu, the formidable New Zealand fullback - what an impressive player, with a colossal build; six foot eight, and two hundred and sixty pounds, runs a hundred meters in eleven seconds, a fine specimen indeed....' No doubt supposed to be Lomu, but even taller, playing an unlikely position for someone of that size and someone with a Tongan/Samoan name leading the the haka? I guess it happens....

* * *
And I'm happy that natural order is restored by Miss Venezuala winning Miss Universe!
* * *
And I was re-reading some old entries I didn't quite publish on my blog and found this t-shirt site for grammar snobs. Bliss!

Ditto.

The other teacher-blogs mention being busy. I agree.

• Reports to write (oops, I will not meet my first deadline - too bad).


• Open Evening stuff to do.


• Being in charge of two classes' programmes is taxing on me. Lots of tweaking and preparation to do.


• Marking marking marking. Not that I do it very often - but it's hanging over my head very ominously.


• My form class are being **** to all their teachers. All kinds of 'situations' to get on top of there. One of the good girls told me that it took one teacher half an hour to do the roll because they just wouldn't shut up and he kept insisting on quiet. Poor guy! He's a PRT. My girls need a firm hand. They have no self-discipline.


• Running tutorials and catch-ups during lunchtimes.

Might try and go to quiz on Thursday though. Any takers?

That will do.

More blogging in the weekend. Weekdays too busy.

I have always wanted a mobily scooter anyhow.

OLD AGE STORY #1

I drove two girls from my basketball team home tonight after the game. I guess they're both in their early or mid 20s somewhere.

One of the girls said she was going out tonight, once she got home. The other girls was all, 'Goodness - students eh.'

To which she replied, 'Yeah - we honestly are having to force ourselves to do it, though. We don't usually go out. We all actually like staying home and reading books like a bunch of nanas.'

[Note that at this point in the conversation I was thinking 'I can relate, girlfriend']

'... But we're going to make ourselves go out. We honestly act like we're 30 or something, instead of 21, like we actually are.'

If you did not see the cringe bit for me, rewind.

'.... like a bunch of nanas...... like we're 30 or something.....'

And she wasn't being funny, purposely exaggerating the age nana-ish behaviour should start at. She was being quite serious.

I sat in my seat and quietly drove on. Me being 31 and all. And, by her logic, at the age of being a nana.

Oh to be young again and see 30 as some far-off age.

I will pretend, to make myself feel better, that she naturally assumed by my spritely demenor and youthful looks that I myself am closer to 21 than 30. She obviously sees me as a peer and didn't even think that her nana comment would cut close to my bone.

Yeah.... I'll take it as a compliment.....

OLD AGE STORY #2

At dinner, Kyle was talking about some young 18 year old who he works with at the bar. We jokingly said, 'Geez - that's a bit young even for you!' He said that he had figured out he was actually older than her and her twin added together. That's over 36 years old (for those a little slow on the mathematics).

We had a, 'Whoa! When you put it like that you're really old!' moment and laughed at him.

He then said, 'You know you're old when you have to start hoping your colleagues have hot single mums.'
* * *
HOLY COW - NOT ONLY DO PEOPLE THINK I'M A NANA, BUT THEY ALSO THINK I'M AN UBER-GEEK!
You may remember my blog a few months ago about the video-shop-nerd bonding with me over sci-fi films and sharing a binary number joke with me.
I just found the website that has the binary joke t-shirt he was referring to.
And how did I find this site, you ask?
It is a site that SVEND linked to! The video-shop-nerd assumes I'm hard-core :) I would only dare to dream of being in the sphere of nerdiness that Svend inhabits and to be checking out his sites of nerd-products on a regular basis.
It's almost a compliment how hard-core-sci-fi-nerdy he assumed I was capable of being. I could be his elf-princess or something. Next time he role-plays.
I'm just kidding (by the way). In case the internet does not sufficiently communicate my tone. I love nerds. I love Svend. I am a nerd. But I refuse to wear nerdy tshirts with maths jokes on them. Those are purely for the hard-core nerdy lamo maths teachers. I was rejected from their sect years ago and still hold a grudge.... Tshirts with jokes about grammar, on the other hand, are witty and cool.

CLUES

1 - Something in that picture no longer exists. It's not the mug.

2 - My, what long and elegant fingers you have, my precious.

3 - Are those cufflinks you are wearing, Mr Fancy Pants?

4 - About to give a speech - do your best.

5- The Hair.

6 - Who would hold a chocolate penis up in public?

7 - Hmm. You couldn't play the guitar with those hands but you could kill 1,000 flies.

8 - It's hand, not han.

9 - I'll get you a watch just like that for $5 next time I'm in Thailand. Or buy you one on Trade-Me. Bargain!

10 - A rather defensive pose.

11 - My fair lady.

12- My hand is up! Pick me!

13 - So elegant, they're almost feminine.

14 - Holy chop-sticks, Batman!

15 - I estimate there's a t-shirt and jeans hidden under the suit.

16 - A brazen pose.

17 - What's in his hand? Oh - the usual.

18 - Tennis today, eh? Ok - as long as it's not too late.

19 - A flattering angle.

20 - What's that perched on her finger?

ART STUFF

Two Drunken Lushes
Taking Photos of themselves at the bus-stop before going into town (while Ange sings 'Slip Slidin' Away' for some odd reason....)

* * *

I went with Pete the Painter (the guy in our sleepout this summer) to hang his work at Deluxe Cafe last night. If you are there in the next two weeks, check it out!

A couple 0f people were looking at them while he was hanging it up, and they must've seen that I was chatting to him. So they asked me if they were for sale - and I said, 'Yes - for the next two weeks'. I felt like his manager or something. His representative. He was just humbly hanging them up, trying to get them straight and not stand in anyone's coffee while climbing up on chairs and scaling the walls.

I got an iced coffee and boysenberry muffin with oodles of raspberry icing and read some gig guides. I didn't realise there were outdoor movies showing up at the Veladrome in Hataitai. Cool! Apparently they cost the same as a night out at Reading's though.

Personal favourites of Pete's work include the Fidel's one and the Mt Vic tunnel one.

* * *

The sky is blue. I am going to finish reading my book. It's a great book. I borrowed it off Ange. After I finish it I'm gonna read the one I borrowed off Sam. Then there's the one I borrowed off Kirsten......

The Ange book is about a boy named Herman and it's Swedish. Herman is losing his hair, so he has started wearing his rain-hat everywhere. His dad drives a crane and can see America from up there in the sky.

* * *

The cat from next is still popping in and looking for the Englishmen. We are going to continue their long-term plan of catnapping the cat and making it ours.... Don't tell the neighbours.....

* * *

I have to give Fishy something tonight at netball. I hope I don't forget! It's another part of her house-warming present that I came across at the Iko Iko sale. Appropriately themed.

Uh.

Tonight a girl hurt herself fairly decently at b'ball. Wrenched her knee and had to be carried off the court.

Then she vomitted.

She was fairly woozie after that and the sports co-ordinator put her in the recovery position. I had total faith in his ability to deal with the situation -until he pulled me aside and said, 'Uh - what do you reckon - should we call an ambulance or just let her mum pick her up???' and he seemed open to suggestion.

I thought, 'Dude! You're the sports guy with (presumably) first aid certificates up the yin-yang ... That's like me going to you and asking where the apostrophe goes. It's kinda concerning.....'

Anyhow.... My amateur call that she was in slight shock and pulled herself out of it was right. Sucks to be her - it's her 18th in two days and she had planned to go clubbing. All she'll be doing now is hobbling.

My confidence in waiting til the mum arrived was based mostly on thinking she helped run the Wellington basketball league.... I realised part-way through this that I was thinking of the girl's cousin..... Oops. Turns out she works in a hospital anyhow.

Let loose.

I got to go on sports exchange today. It is with my old school up in the LVN area. I like going on these.

Highlights

• Getting to wear a fancy sports jacket from my school (it was warm with a polar fleecy lining and has the school logo on it)


• Getting a free lunch pack given to me by the host school (with a chocolate chip muffin in it)


• Seeing the old quadrangle is still the same (beautiful part of the school with rose gardens where me and Ange used to hang out every lunchtime of our youth)


• Managing to coach the basketball team to a narrow victory (I did much yelling and nagging of refs and score-bench to earn my free lunch)


• Getting to watch High School Musical on the bus-ride home

I only saw one teacher from when I was there and to be honest he actually doesn't look any older at all. He's aging well. We were all quite shocked at the skankily high hem-lines those LVN girls wear. We're talking a good hand-span above the knee, whereas my girls wear theirs below the knee - classy.

The basketball game was very exciting. We were up in the first quarter, maintained that lead in the second, lost it in the third, at which stage the game was tied. Then we got behind a few in the fourth. One of our key players fouled out (despite Miss J's only bit of advice when she was allowed back on the court after picking up her 4th foul late in the 2nd quarter being 'Don't foul - I mean it. We need points, don't worry about trying to get steals ......... I'd rather have you on the court til the end').

It was the last event still running, so all of the girls from our school were upstairs, lining the balcony and yelling with all their might. The home-crowd were trying to counter us, and had young males to bolster their volume. I was having to yell at the top of my voice to be heard. Useful things like, 'NO FOUL, NO FOUL!' to my two remaining players who were also on four fouls. I was also 'helping' the refs who were very open to suggestion. If I yelled out things like '3 SECONDS!' or '8 SECONDS!' they often made the call. Without my helpful suggestions I don't think they would have.

Anyhow, with about five minutes to go we were down by three, player fouled out. We staged a mini-comeback and got it tied up. At this point three of their best players were also on 4 fouls.... and we attacked the middle. Managed to draw fouls and get their only two big girls out of the game. After that we eked out a four point lead in the final couple of minutes, but it was tense stuff. They celebrated after the final whistle like they'd won a final or something. I lost a little of my voice.

My best bits of advice were, 'Stop fouling - the refs are calling anything that looks like a reach' (which obviously nobody listened to) and 'The weakside wing needs to go in for offensive rebounds' (which they actually listened to and managed to get a couple of put-backs from).

It was fun. My perfect record remains - our basketball teams have not lost an exchange the whole time I've been there (despite some very close calls and come-back efforts).

* * *

Back to DVD4 of Season3 of Gilmore Girls.

Small Stuff

1. An exfoliant thief is possibly at work. Traps are being set to confirm my suspician.

2. My 7th form class have decided I remind them of Sarah Potts from Shortland St.

3. Marty got a fish. He called it Indiana. It barely moves.

4. Our second fish, Audrey, died. She was a bit of a tart anyhow. Motley still lives.

5. Marty's bowl is three times as big as ours (at least) and the people at Animates said it was only sufficient for one fish. Possibly why we have had two fish deaths recently.

6. I am watching a lot of sci-fi for upcoming unit for Media. Am concentrating on dystopia films (Matrix, Twelve Monkeys, Blade Runner).

7. I am running the Year 9 Spelling Bee tomorrow. I had big plans. The host was going to wear a bee suit and I was going to play 'ABC' by the Jackson 5 as theme music. None of this has worked out. But there shall be spelling! And a Queen Bee shall be crowned (I bought a crown at the $2 Shop today).

8. I pigged out today. Grain Waves and macadamia chocolate. Mmm. Not feeling so good now though.....

9. Cassie and Ange's 30ths soon.

10. I bought some 50c Lego rip-offs at the $2 Shop (on special). Reidun, Kyle and Marty had a race to build their models. The models were all pastel coloured playground scenes. Marty's figure looked odd.

11. Tomorrow is Bagel Breakfast day!

Things Disappointing

We went to the Tasting Room last night, our usual work-drinks Friday night haunt.

And the fries came in a bowl.

We were disappointed.

They usually come in a rustic old pot on a wooden chopping board. A generous portion too.

Now they come in a plain white bowl. On a plain what tray. And the helping is somewhat less generous.

Stink one.

* * *

In happier news, I am finally at the point where the video guy no longer asks me my name. And a referee at indoor netball, who's never had a conversation with me beyond 'You're not the ref - so keep your opinions to yourself.... one more word out of you and I'll throw you off the court'.... came up and said 'Hi Kate..... are you enjoying your netball? I've been watching you over the years... .and you don't seem to be playing as well....'

It was odd.

It was like something out of the Stalkers101 handbook of how NOT to start a first conversation with someone you've never really talked to before.

Here is an excerpt:
'When initiating conversation with someone you have been watching from afar:
a - do not reveal that you already know their name (people tend to get offput when you know their name without having been introduced and use it as if you are old friends)
b - do not reveal that you have been 'watching them for years'
c - do not go into deep and meaningful conversations about their enjoyment of life

* * *

I am going to get a haircut next week. Julie is having one tomorrow. I think I might get a bob. I had a bob when I was younger. I quite liked it. I think my hair was straighter then, somehow.

Sport Lily

I could soon be playing four different sports each week. That's a record! When I was growing up I pretty much played basketball only, up to five days a week I'd have trainings or games.

We'd play in the Friday night Palmerston league, which was the one we really cared about (and won three years in a row). We were the underdog little school from the small town, who had to fight to just get in the competition each year (certain conveynors from Palmy schools wanted it to be for their city only, without outlying towns being invited to play). My mum would sit in the meetings and point out that our school never complained about the 45 minute commute each way, always turned up to games and did our duties and that we raised the level of the competition and without it, our school would be left with three other local schools to play, none of whom had a good basketball programme. They would eventually agree to let us stay and play.

We'd sometimes also play in the local league, as a mid-week training. That was against grown women - some of whom were pretty feisty. If the school team wasn't playing in that, I'd get together a bunch of friends to play. Just about every girl from our 4th form class ended up playing for us. We'd have to do score-bench and referee games ourselves - for a 13 year old girl, reffing men's games is not a fun thing! But that's grass root basketball for you. In Wellington, you never have to provide refs and most of the kids come through having never reffed a game. I think it's a sad thing. Reffing is like a rite of passage that everyone should have to endure. My brother coached us some seasons.

Then there was a mid-week local schools league that was held in Levin. It was one of those things that just kept the kids of the street, and my mum pretty much ran it by herself. It got pretty big with teams from Otaki and Foxton travelling to play. So every Thursday my whole family would be down at the stadium, playing and chipping in where we could. And dad would pick us up and we'd get Chinese take-aways on the way home at 8pm. Then mum would get us to help her collate all the scores and make the draw for next week. It was all done by hand in those days - not on spreadsheets.

On Wednesdays we always had training for the Senior A. I would bike down on mum's old bike with the basket and carrier on it, or my friend Sarah would pick me up in her mini. We would train after the boys, which meant we could sit upstairs and watch them play their pick-up game at the end of their practice. They played skins versus shirts. Exciting for teenage girls to see! Me and my brother would be allowed to take the key to the gym to trainings and were entrusted with locking up the gym and turning off all the lights. In the holidays we would have the odd sneaky pick-up game at the gym, possibly not something the PE department would approve of. It seemed natural at the time, but the school I work at now doesn't even entrust teachers to lock up the gym and would have kittens if you left it up to a student.

How times have changed.

Sports Now

Tuesdays

We've been trying out playing Ultimate Frisbee on a Tuesday. I like it because it flows pretty well and you don't have those quiet phases like you can in a netball game, if you're down the wrong end. It's also quite casual and social. I like that throughout the game when you get subbed off, you can sit and chat with a variety of people. In netball you get your one quarter off, and there might be one guy off with you. I like that we don't take it toooo seriously as we're all not fantastic yet. We yell out encouragement about small victories and trash-talk each other without actually hitting on points of pride.

Wednesdays

I play for Michelle's netball team, which has bits and pieces of my old Monday night netball teams on it. It's a good team - we all know each other's styles pretty well now and we have a lot of strengths. We're in the top grade for the night, so games tend to be challenging. I like that it's a high level of play and everyone on the team is fairly competitive, yet doesn't get miffed too badly if things go wrong. There's a sense of humour there.

Thursdays

Basketball starts up again next week. I play for a club team and there are ladies on it that I've played with for a few years now. I'm not really friends with any of them, only socialising once a season or so, but they're all good sorts. It's a nice womanly kind of environment where everyone's included. There are some pretty tough-minded women on the team. We have had a few new players recently, which has frustrated me a little. They just don't quite know where to stand on defence, which is integral to a zone. I guess it takes a while to figure out just have far out you can go when you're playing base in a zone.

Soon to Come

Lawn bowls! A game that has a slower pace and more analysing. Should be fun. I like that it crosses generations.

Encouraging

We played a game in form time today that was kinda like musical chairs. The person in the middle would say, 'Stand up if you [insert option here]' and there would be a mad scramble of kids jumping up and swapping seats if that thing applied to them. One person would be left standing in the middle.

I was in the middle and I said, 'Stand up if you like Britney Speares.'

Nobody moved!

Tragic.

A guy on findsomeone who I'd been chatting to for a while finally gave me his cell-number and said to text him and that he wanted to meet up. I fully intended texting him, because he seemed quite cool and we'd built up a nice rapport. He was taller than me, a good weight, had a nice smile and could spell well.

But for some reason, in the next few days he took his profile down (maybe his membership ran out). I discovered this when I logged in to write his number down and text him! All his messages have disappeared. My inner-girl thinks he might assume I wrote his number down, or can still read his old messages..... or that I was never actually going to text him.

Stink one.

I realise it would be kinda psycho-ish to put up a posters in some local shop windows (we live in the same suberb) saying 'CLAYTON - I DIDN'T WRITE DOWN YOUR NUMBER, KATE'. Though it seems like something that would work in the movies......

To make myself feel less frustrated, I will assume he met someone else this week and is no longer single. That way it was not my fault and circumstances were well out of my control.....

There could be any number of reasons he disappeared. I was about to meet up with a guy (we'd even discussed days and venues) when he suddenly called me 'dude' in a message. That one little word prompted me to change my mind about the whole thing. I could not date a guy who called me 'dude'.

That is my bad news for the day :(

Prizes!

Our Frisbee team may not have won many games.... but we cleaned up at the prize-giving ceremony tonight.

Jon got Male MVP (to which I loudly protested - his head is big enough already, and he'd undertaken a thorough smear campaign against me getting any MVPs this season). He did get a lot of points, according to his own tally.

Then our team got the Spirit Award for the grade. I'm not sure if they were being ironical...... or if we actually got it legitimately! I have figured out we probably got it for a combination of a) not knowing the rules enough to annoyingly point them out to the opposition b) not being good enough to be arrogant and patronising by cart-wheeling and doing push-ups in the middle of the game and c) not defaulting any games.

So, essentially, it's the attendance prize! The geek award! Yay us for turning up every week. And, as Jon Ball (MVP) pointed out, we did tend to abuse our own team-mates, rather than the opposition.

Our name for next season might be Disc O Cows. Girl Sam came up with that.

Funniest play of the the game: When Sam (I think) and Damon simultaneously slipped over, and the girls tried to fast break on us, since they had numbers.....

400 Posts.

Wow, that's a lot.

1. Dark Knight

Went to see the Batman movie last night. It was really fun. Long in a good way. I like how they're a bit more psychologically focused than your average action movie. Never would have anticipated it being such a successful franchise. Anyhow, I'm not going to rave on too much because I'm sure that'll be done enough by other people :)

2. Facbook 'Friend'

Had that weird social dynamic of seeing someone in person who I'd been friends with on Facebook, and then deleted as a friend (because we'd never interacted personally, other than me receiving lots of those annoying application requests and bulk 'gifts', and she was only a brief work colleague a couple of years ago).

Anyhow. It wasn't too weird because we were both just in the line for the bathroom, and I don't even know if she saw me...... But I suddenly had this pang of guilt at having deleted her. It makes quite a statement. She probably has about 400 friends and hadn't even noticed, to be honest. And she looked heavily pregnant, which I had no idea about, further illustrating how we aren't exactly close. I still felt a bit mean for a second.

In real life being 'friends' with someone is much more organic, and just kinda ebbs and flows naturally, without you having to quantify it. On Facebook it's reduced to clicking 'accept' or 'ignore' or 'remove'. Quite blatant and not much room for middle ground! Very high-school.

3. Ex 'Friend'

Other odd dynamics are being in a group situation with someone you dated for a reasonable amount of time and finding that you're now more a friend-of-a-friend. Worthy of the quick 'hi' and head nod in recognition, but thoroughly out of the loop and a step behind the in-jokes. Kinda like going backwards in time to when we'd met through a friend, but without the sexual tension and mystery, so a totally new dynamic. Quite jarring, moving down the spectrum from having intimacy to being polite.

Quite a natural progression but still odd to think 'I've seen you naked - I know some of your deepest secrets, yet anyone watching would guess we'd met once or twice'. Just odd. When I broke up with my last boyfriend it was a much less complicated transition because we have absolutely no common friends (possibly one of the contributing factors to our breakup, but that's a different issue!), so I wouldn't hear things about him through other people.

You have to feel out how you're going to be friends. You can go along the spectrum from being really close-friends to being functional-friends to the extent that if you're at a group party together you can stop and chat for a minute without it being too awkward. I guess it's going to vary depending on how you met, how you broke up, what you still have in common, how openly you communicate and how motivated you are to 'make it work'. And I guess it changes over time. I'm sure it gets there eventually, if you both want it to - but until then, you can be very conscious of the changes.

I have to admit it's not always a transition I'm very good at! I over think things.

What am I missing....

I am not any kind of authority on the whole 'anti-smacking' laws. But I know that 'yes' was the right answer and that the vast majority of voters did not say 'yes' (hard to know how many people abstained because it was a ridiculously worded question that over-simplified the matter and was emotively loaded to lead people towards 'no').

So I am very surprised to hear that John Key says he won't change the law, but will just make changes to instructions on how to carry it out, or something to that effect.

To me, a very left-wing voter, that seems the sensible thing to do. He is even going against what a lot of his National cabinet want to do. Brave man. He is making a mockery of a $9million campaign - he does not like to waste money on anything but MP perks, I thought.

So.... what's the catch?

I have been conditioned to expect him to do the opposite of what I think is sound and moral..... I can't see what he's getting out of this move.

I feel cheap and dirty actually agreeing with him on something. I know there is some evil capitalist motive behind it somewhere! Can anyone point it out to me?

Update: maybe Key is just recognising the big economic cost of child abuse (see Stuff article). That makes sense. Child abuse = cost. Cost = bad.

* * *

As an aside, I heard a sound-bite from him on the radio and I cringed through the whole thing. He is in serious need of elocution lessons! Helen had a 'distinctive' voice, but at least she pronounced her consonants correctly.

* * *

Schools are becoming so dangerous some teachers are doing lunch duty in pairs or
taking walkie-talkies with them - and their union is now calling for social
workers, truancy officers or even police to step in instead.

So says Stuff.

While I have no doubt there are schools out there like that, mine certainly isn't one of them.

The worst I've had to do on duty is ask kids to not play with their volleyball in the quad (and yes I did run around ridiculously trying to get it off them, because they refused to give it to me...). Or ask them to pick up rubbish, or not stand on desks.

The other day I intercepted what may or may not have come to a fight between girls in my class. There were no punches exchanged, but some nasty words and intimidation. I marched them to the DP's office and it was dealt with fairly swiftly and with consequences and parent meetings.

In short, my school is pretty sweet to teach at.

I am every so slightly jealous of people who get to take walkie-talkies with them on duty. You'd have to wear big aviator glasses as well, so you felt like you were on some cheesy cop show.

Maybe the real answer is to widen the introduction of supervised bull-rush at lunch-time.

1. Kids say the Darndest Things

There's a Maori kid at school. A rather PC teacher who's been learning the reo recently went up to her and spoke some words in Maori, assuming this kid could understand.

The kid has no clue what she's saying. The kid doesn't really speak Maori. Not in full sentences. So the teacher gets to the end of the speil and the kid wonders how the heck she can respond politely.

You gotta think there're a few options running through her head -
a) Tell the truth and admit you don't understand.
b) Just nod.
c) Give a generic response in English, like 'Morning, Miss. Yeah - ready for class!'
d) Say something generic in Maori, like 'Ae' or 'Kia ora, Miss.'
e) Nod and then change the subject, 'Uh -what page are we on, Miss?'

But instead of that she gives what she considers an authentic response, one which won't give her ignorance away.

She nods and says, 'Chur.'

The teacher moves on, suspecting nothing.

Hehe. I like that.

Apparently for the rest of the week the kid, who's a class clown and has told her class about this incident, will at random moments call out 'Cher!' and the rest of them will crack up laughing.

Sometimes kid are naughty, and we have to tell them off (to maintain our air of authority and conservatism), but deep down we do think it's a bit funny too.
2. Pet Peeve

On the topic of work, it is irking me somewhat at the moment that it's nigh on impossible to get any actual 'work' done in the room I work in during my non-contacts. There are almost constant interruptions.

Internal monologues, please. I have taken to wearing my earphones in order to concentrate. But people still try and talk to me...... Adults are annoying like that.

3. My Food of the Week....

.... is plums. Dark red plums. Yum. I got a 1kg bag of them.

Mandarins are my other favourite. And freshly chopped pineapple.

I am getting my 5+ a day.

Pokered

Justin had a beginner-friendly poker game at his house today.

I have leart a lot. Having sucked up all the knowledge in the room, I am now ready to play properly. I reckon next time I play I'll be awesome.

We played three $5 games, none of which I won. But I did not finish last in any of them! And by the final game I was 3rd out of 5, and I could've duked it out for 2nd place, but we were running short on time so I took a gamble that didn't pay off (bloody Justin and his ace).

I have learnt

1. You probably shouldn't go in on an 8 and a 3.

2. People don't bluff as often as I assumed.

3. What 'ALL IN!' means. Poker has heaps of fun sayings to learn!

4. What an 'Ana Kournakova' is (ace/king combo - not as good as it looks). Though it beat my pair of kings on the final turn.

5. To hide my cards better.

6. To shuffle poker cards on the table - they are very slippery.

7. That beef jerky really is the perfect complement to a poker game.

8. That poker is a game of patience.

All in all, I'm happy with it. $15 for three hours of entertainment is a good deal. Better than a crappy movie!

* * *

Those of you who know Justin may want to ask him how he got his bruised eye. (I've got two words for you: shadow boxing.)

ELIMINATION #2

Just had a girl I went to high-school with 'friend' me. She was an actual friend - we had sleep-overs.

It turned into a straight swap for another high-school person. But this one was a guy who was really only on the outer fringe of my group of friends, and he was a little naughty for me to be one-on-one friends with. So he's gone.

What an exciting start to the day!

* * *

I've been listening to 'The Coast' on my bed-side radio this week. Ok, so it's old-people easy-listening, but I really like that old 50s and 60s stuff with the harmonising, and my radio gets barely any stations well. So shut up if you're about to mock me.....

And every time a particular jingle for the station has come on, I've misheard it and been momentarily shocked.

It goes something like 'Open fires on a winter night....'

But I keep hearing the word 'thighs' instead of 'fires'. Dodgey!

THE 80S! ELECTRONICS BUILT TO LAST!

* * *
And here's an accessory worthy of an English teacher.

Where

Elvis

Lives

Life

Incognito,

Never

Getting

To

O

N

The Sun is Smiling

Sunny spring mornings are the best.

On my supermarket trip I bought almost exclusively fresh things. Fish, juice, veges, fruit, flowers, Cyclops yoghurt, feta. And a thick paper to read.

I say this having had Burger Wisconsin for dinner just before my basketball game on Thursday and a quite nice seafood tom-yum soup from my local Thai restaurant (which is, according to my ex-chef flatmate, really really authentic and good). My body is craving non-take-awayed food, though.

But there is a good review for a new sushi restaurant on Vivian St. Might have to try it some time. Sushi is good. It's one of the only treat-foods you can have and actually feel good afterwards.

* * *

I watched The Bachelor on Friday, the 'After the Final Rose' special.

It is all very ick. In real life, I don't like the feeling of ever being someone's second-choice..... that show takes it to an entirely new level. I'd be deeply suspicious of a guy who changed his mind that quickly.

In something like 19 seasons of The Bachelor there has been only one actual marriage. So it's really just a glorified dating show.

Oddly compelling viewing, though :)

Bring back Studs, I say. It didn't pretend to be anything other than what it was - a hook-up show.

* * *

I love when Levin gets in the news. It's usually for random things. This time it's a protest at a Levin piggery. He he. Pigs. Levin. Who knew 'piggery' was a word?

This isn't up there with the mobility scooter hit and run or the eldery woman who got killed by a sheep.

bRomantic

I like the whole bro-mance thing. Guys have pretty cute friendships. Like Justin and Jon. Aww.

It seems to be a recent trend to have movies and TV shows based around a bro-mance - like Scrubs or Taledego Nights ('I'll put out your invisible flames!'). I think it's kinda cool that guys can be all, 'I love you, dude!'.

I was wondering if it really is such a modern trend though, or is it just having a resurgence? Are their earlier examples or prototypes? What defines it?

1. Big Boys - a willingness for sillyness

A bro-mance has an element of being a kid on the inside. Their eyes light up when they see each other, they could happily play games and do silly, childish things together. There is certainly an element of having retained what it is for boys to be friends when they're 4 year olds. You see scenes of the boys in Big Bang Theory playing computer games intently together, or Barney wanting to play laser tag in How I Met Your Mother or Joey and and Chandler playing foozeball in Friends.

These child-like adventures might often involve drugs/alcohol. There are a lot of bro-mance-ish comedies that revolve around pot-smoking, like Bill and Ted or Wayne's World or That 70s Show. Perhaps this is pertinent to the next point, as the altered state allows them to show emotions openly, with an 'excuse'. Maybe a bro-mance is also about keeping that wild, crazy part of your life alive (reminiscing together about your uni days). It's easy to say, 'I love you man,' when you're stoned or high.

Having said that, Michael Jackson and McCauly Caulkin don't quite fit the definition ....

2. It's Not Sexual

While a bro-mance can be physical, it's not sexual. It's ok to hug and say I love you, and even cry in front of each other. But there's never the undertone of it being 'gay'. I think it's (possibly?) a sign of growing maturity in society about it being ok for males to show affection towards each other without it being weird.

If the bro-mance is a more modern trend, perhaps this is part of the explanation. You had shows with male duos in them, like CHiPs or Simon and Simon, but there was this overt masculinity and staunchness. The tender moments were short and symbolic, rather than openly emotional. A little head nod of recognition.

The quality of being the strong-silent type and being independant and herioc were pretty trendy at that time. You had solo heroes like Rambo and McGyver and The Terminator. Emotions were for the weak. Affection could often not even be afforded for the ladies - these men were destined for a life of loneliness. Nobody could get too close to them.

It can verge on being sexual, with the odd awkward 'joke', like in Scrubs. But that's only because deep down guys know they'd be in heaven if they could marry their best mate and still be sexually satisfied. That is a fantasy. It's ok tell your bro their butt looks good in their new jeans, though.

But then you have people like Sam and Woody on Cheers, which also doesn't fit the definition because ....

3. It's Equal

I think in the past there have been male relationships that involved a big brother or mentoring role. In those situations it was ok to be affectionate.

There was Hans Solo and Luke, Batman and Robin (you could debate that they fail of category 2 already) or Larry and Balki. But they weren't quite bros. They had each other's backs, but one of them was really looking after the other one. It was playing on the whole side-kick fad. One of them was godly and cool, the other one wanted to be like them.

A bro-mance is about mutual respect. Nobody is superior to anybody else. Your bro lifts your ego up - it's not competitive. Bret and Jermaine are equally hapless in love.



Any omissions? Any other criteria? This is a theory-in-progress.

Super-Sub

When Svend was left companionless for Valentino: The Last Emperor on Sunday, I swooped in. That's just the kinda friend I am!

It was nice. It wasn't my favourite Film Fest thing, but it was watchable and made me think. I like that about Film Fest docos - they're a lucky-dip.

Afterwards, I was perusing my local video store (when will I start calling it the 'DVD shop'?) and was sorely disappointed by the doco section. I'd seen all the ones that looked any good to me. Need more variety! On the plus side (or possibly minus side) the guy serving me knew my name instantly (first and sur). I am still a regular. And this wasn't even my sci-fi buddy.

Anyhow. Valentino. The couture fashion designer guy - does dresses. It was really a doco about the changing nature of the fashion industry and how it's more about being commercially viable, and less about the art of it now. It amazed me that some company could take over the 'Valentino' label, and actually get rid of the eponymous designer. There was a key moment where they were planning a big 45th anniversary retrospective for Valentino, and his future hung in the balance with ownership changing. The young hot-shot the new owners had brought in to manage the company joked that, '.... more importantly, it's my 40th birthday that day!' Joking.... but not joking. The way they filmed him, he was always lurking around in the background, with his perfect hair and smarmyness. Good villain.

Valentino was visionary, stubborn, impractical. But he stuck to his guns. He said that he refused to compromise his vision of the label - he wasn't going to make accessory brands that were sold at airports, or do fragrances. He designed beautiful ball gowns. Full stop. His business and life partner supported him unwaveringly, the exact kind of person you'd want managing the business side of your life, if you wanted to just be the artist. Valentino is many things, but a sell-out is not one of them. Possibly a pragmatist is another.

And there were pretty dresses, and statuesque models (who would make even me look dwarfish - where were they when Liv Tyler was cast as an elf???). It was a nice view into the world of fashion and runway shows - you could tell that a lot of different people thought they were really the puppet masters and that everybody else was expendable. One poor model just stood around naked, silent and still, while Valentino and his seamstress pinned and folded fabric around her. She was nothing more than a canvas to them. Interesting life.

* * *

In order of likingness - Film Fest list for 2009

1. It might Get Loud - delightful on every level (five stars)

2. Moon - a smart sci-fi (four and a half stars)

3. Adventureland - not that memorable, but sweet and on my wavelength (three and a half stars)

4. Valentino: The Last Emporer - interesting insight into a foreign world (three and a third stars)

5. We Live in Public - very relevant to (my) modern society, but harder to engage with (three stars - would have been less without director's talk)

Sitting Down

1. 'It Might Get Loud'

This was the final planned Film Fest outing. I met Sam at the Embassy. After initial confusion over seats (C10 didn't actually exist - the usher thought maybe it was because of the orchestra being set up and some seats being removed.... but then I realised I was just looking at an old ticket stub...... oops .... blame the hangover). Our actual seats were great - pretty much centre of the front row of the nice seats.

This doco was about Jimmy page (Led Zep), The Edge (U2) and Jack White (White Stripes etc) and their experiences with guitars, particularly electric ones.

It worked. It was lovely and I had a permanent smile on my face, right from the opening credits (which were extreme closeups, tracking along the bodies of guitars, focusing on the curves and details). I don't know how long it was, but I could've watched more - wasn't getting even remotely antsy by the time it ended. I'd get the DVD and watch the bonus footage.

The three of them are all interesting personalities, great storytellers and likable. The doco would go between each of their individual stories (starting right back when they got their first beloved guitar and discovered the blues or rock, to when they formed their first bands and discovered their own sounds, to the creation of some of their key licks and rock-anthems). Then it would cut to an intimate meeting between the three of them, where it was just them in an empty studio, sitting on a couch, with a few guitars, having a chat.

They would each explain one of their 'tricks' and then the others would join in, creating a three-guitar jam session. It was pure joy! The three of them were just so curious about how things worked and it was a bit of a love-fest. They were all those kids who liked to figure out how things worked - Jimmy Page built a guitar from scratch as a teenager. Sam and I liked how Jack White was trying to act pretty cool, but when Jimmy Page was leaning in and listening to him explain a bit of one of his songs, he had this cute little smile on his face that showed he was getting a massive kick out of the whole thing.

The three of them were fairly perfectly chosen - you had the three different generations of music represented.

Jimmy was the early rocker, coming out of a skiffle background, being an early session-player and then forming one of the best guitar bands ever. His style is less about creating distortion or effects, more about putting delicate details and trills into it. But he can't sing. There was footage of him as a young teenager, playing about two chords in a skiffle band in a variety show, and when the host asked what he wanted to do, young James Page earnestly said he thought he might be a biological researcher.

*

Then there's Edge, coming out of the punk era, where they just wanted to strip everything back. He went right back to his old high school, where the band was formed, and the doco touched on some of the political turmoil in Belfast and Ireland at the time. The Edge was the one who is a master of taking a simple progression and turning it into something completely different through effects. It showed him jamming on his own in his studio right on the waterfront, and he had masses of pedals and buttons at his feet, which he cycled through with ease. He's quite a lovely, funny character. It was nice to see him in the spotlight, with Bono just coming into shot every now and then, but never the focus. And he can sing! He was the technician of the three, using technology to create sounds that were in his head, but which he struggled to reproduce with just the guitar.

Jack White was the raw talent. He explained his relationship with instruments as a battle to tame them. He liked getting a guitar with a bent neck and trying to force something good out of it. He went right back and showed us the blues album with an old black guy singing with no accompaniment other than his own clapping, and said that's still his favourite song ever. It was quite haunting. But you can see it really coming through in some of his songs. I liked when he explained how the White Stripes came about - it was from him wanting to do this stripped back blues style music, in a time when everyone in his neighbourhood was into hiphop and electronic music. He saw Meg banging away on the drums, like a caveman, and thought, 'Bingo!' - that's the image to base the band around. Even in the doco he had a more avant guarde (?), constructed persona - never quite as sure of who he actually is. There were moments where he seemed genuine, but even the more 'artistic' bits with him were always interesting. And he was balanced out by the other two.

It was just quite gorgeous. Good graphics, nicely shot, interesting editing.... and genuine moments. And music! Good music. You just couldn't help but share in the pure joy that the three men obviously still get from creating music.

We had coffee and food at The Craftsman across the road afterwards. It is becoming one of my favourite places for a cosy low-key chat in the afternoon. I caught sight of their old-school games cabinet and might have to go back and try some of them out (Connect Four, Guess Who, Ludo).

* * *

2. It Might Get Slow - The Ballet

I don't know if I've ever been to an actual ballet. I certainly can't recall any experiences. I took ballet as a 6 year old - but discovered it was intensely boring (at that age, all were doing was pointing our toes and skipping in circles). Perhaps there was a realisation that my body was not at all suited for such delicate pursuits.

Anyhow, somewhere deep inside my past is that girlhood desire to be a ballerina. It's in most of us.

So, me and my two female flatmates donned some girly clothes to go to the ballet. We entered the lobby and it was all quite busy feeling, People were loitering about, glass of wine in hand, dressed in their finery. There were actually ladies in sequins. There were some gorgeous boots and dresses. There was the odd man, obviously being a dutiful boyfriend/husband, but on the whole it was older ladies and tween-aged girls.

The bells started to go, which was quite fun. Time to start! We ascended the stairs to our circle seats. We were quite amazed at high how up we were - and how steeply the stairs and seats rose. I think when you enter the St James there always a moment of awe as you're transported to an older era. You have to stop and take in the details on the roof and wonder what it would be like sitting in the box-seats at the front, behind the velvet curtains.

The first act started. And my enthusiasm quickly dropped.

I thought maybe I was just uncultured, but after literally half an hour of nothing much happening.... I was quite frustrated. There was no set, no lighting effects. Just a bare stage with ten or so fairly plainly costumed ballerinas taking turns having solos or small group dances, while the rest stood about watching. There was no real acting. And it just went on and on. No storyline.

They bowed about three times, then the lights went on. After a few seconds holding back, we turned to each other and said, 'That was it????' We were all fairly disappointed. It had been half an hour, it was already the interval, and almost nothing had happened. All we had enjoyed was the muscles in the guys' legs, the way the ballet skirts swished and lifted as they danced and the orchestra music itself.

We started to get quite cynical, especially when the lights finally went back out and the orchestra started playing..... but the curtains remained closed for the entire first song. We thought maybe it was a conceptual ballet and we actually had to just imagine what would be going on if we could see the ballerinas. We were on the verge of becoming hecklers, our whispers and sniggers getting louder.

But then the curtains opened and it was more what we had expected. There was a massive, fairy-tale set, lighting effects, themed costumes... and a fairy! Finally! This section was fun - with a story, interactions, humour, beautifully choreographed group dances.

We're still not sure what the first third of the show was all about - it bore little relevance to the rest of it. Afterwards we were watching some credits in the lobby, and there was a bunch of ballerinas under a differently titled show.... maybe it was actually nothing to do with the rest of the ballet? We are still clueless, as we didn't have a programme.

[Upon further research I have discovered it was merely highlights of the choreography from another ballet written by the same guy - kinda mashed together with no storyline - makes more sense. We had actually made up our own story of how it worked as a part of the actual ballet..... that's what you get for not buying a programme!]

The last third dragged a little, with too much fairy-dance for my liking and a very drawn-out process of the fairy being afraid to actually touch the lead male.... so they chased each other tentatively across the stage again and again and again. Then she let him catch her, her wings fell off.... and she died. That all happened very quickly. She, by the way, was disturbingly thin, with her ribs sticking out alarmingly, though it did help me keep track of which fairy she was.

Anyhow...... the last two thirds were fun. I think overall I prefer a good play or musical, but it was nice for a change. The most fun bit was the people-watching we did between acts. Some odd characters go to the ballet.

Maybe I approached it the wrong way. Are they supposed to realyl be aimed at an audience of children and tweens? In that case - it was fine. The pantomime acting, the plot that could be summed up in two sentences (with not a lot of nuances and layers to be seen beyond that)..... the pretty things to look at .... All great for young girls.

We had pudding at Sweet Mother's afterwards. Though I had curly fries.

* * *

On days like that I like living in a city.

Groggy

1. Drinking Yellow and some blanc at Regal.

2. About 10 different meat dishes.

3. Gumby bought Justin some wind-up sumo toys. The lazy Susan was a perfect dojo thingie for them. They tended to like turning each other around and doing dodgey things, rather than pushing each other off the edge.

4. Met some guy guys from Paihiatua and Mangitanoka down for the rugby. We bought them shots and took photos. Country boys are cute - and short.

5. Went to Temperance for the first time. Would have felt old, were I not so drunk. Jon and Justin danced on the table-tops. Actually.

6. Many many rounds of shots.

7. Walked home. The tunnel is soooooooooooo long. Drunken text.

8. Not feel good today.

9. Going to have some toast.

10. And rock a bit more (side to side, not party-like).

11. Might never drink again. For at least a week.

12. Below are pictures of what the evening looked like. I just discovered them on my camera.

13. At least I'm having a good hair-day today. It makes up for my poorly tummy and head.