If music be the love of food....

Saturday night was a faux BBQ. We womanfolk of the flat decided it was time to use our poor forgotten BBQ again.

We dragged it downstairs (through the flat), so that it was in a more alluring position, on the front steps. On the way we dropped kitty litter from the drip-tray all over the carpet and had moments of wishing Kyle was home. But we got it there.

What we really cooked (and I use the term 'we' liberally, as most of it was Reidun) was a roast with lots of veges. Most things had a turn in the BBQ, but did a fair amount of time in the stove and oven too. So, it could just as easily have been an oven-roast.... but the principle was that we were using the BBQ.

The crackling got burnt, but after a good scraping off we ate it. At first we just nibbled it, so that Reidun wouldn't feel it had been wasted - but then we became addicted to the grease and we polished it off before dinner had even been served. Crackling is a good ice-breaker for a dinner party.

We had roast pork with home made apple sauce and jus. We had broccoli with home made cheese sauce. We had a spinach, pear, blue-cheese and walnut salad (my only contribution). We had a medley of roast vegetables, including kumara, potato, pumpkin and carrots.

We had gin and tonic with lemon wedges. I used to think they were only for depressed old ladies - I am now converted to the joy of them (or I have, in fact, become a depressed old lady myself and in denial). We had red wine (the one with a pretty picture of a lady riding a bicycle on the label). We had more red wine (from the cask).

I commented that I felt like I was in the scene at the end of Jamie's Kitchen, where everyone is handing around the food, and there's loud laughter and funky music in the background. Pukka tukka! I like it when actual dinner parties feel like that.

There was apple crumble (using the apples from our back-yard) with chai-whipped-cream and gourmet vanilla ice-cream.

We three and our guest then watched Strictly Ballroom and Dirty Dancing. There was a theme. We commented knowingly on top-lines and heel-leads. I pointed out that the thrust of the plot for Dirty Dancing was everyone pulling together to get an abortion. I wonder if it was actually marketed as a family movie, or if it accidentally became a cult classic for every girl growing up in the 80s. There are certainly more steamy scenes and sexual innuendo than you notice as a kid...

Reidun used the left0ver cream to do real chai lattes for us (served in glasses with folded napkins, like the professionals do).

Today I woke up to Reidun knocking on my door telling me there was home-made banana bread and Grease downstairs. I was looking confused at the grease offering, until I realised it wasn't going to be spread on the banana-bread. Carly then gave us some of her home-made onion soup for lunch and there was mulled wine simmering away on the stove all afternoon (to use up the cask wine).

* * *
Incidentally, I played my first game of indoor ultimate for the season tonight. I was on the Zesty team. It was fun. It'll be good if we have slightly less subs there some nights, but it was a nice mix of people. We beat the other Creatures team by a decent margin.

I think our team might have had less brand-new people, or at least our ones caught on really quickly. We had the instincts right and even the brand-new people had decent hands for catching and a nose for the scoring zone. Not many of our passes went wildly astray - good sensible options. Mike held it all steady with some experience and advice.

I played fairly loose defence, since I was marking new players most of the time and didn't want to freak them out. On offence I think I did ok - didn't drop any catches, threw mostly good passes (except for a few overly ambitious ones in the zone). Caught a few points and passed at least one. It's certainly an advantage if you're taller than your marker, once you get down to the key-hole. That element is more like the sports I'm used to, where you can just kinda post up and hold space, waiting for the lob. And passing was a lot easier than in outdoors. Since we had so many subs, you were only usually on for two points, then off for a few. That meant you were always fairly fresh when you were on, so it was easy to fast-break and keep up with your player.

Looking back, I think our poor Cows Go Moo team had a real baptism by fire - our first game ever was on a day where there were gale-force wind warnings on the radio. If we'd started with indoors, we might all have been a lot happier from the get-go! And it suits our style of game quite well, with the quick passing up court, rather than set plays.

It was a bit odd going from playing with all my friends to playing on a team where I knew one person's name confidently. It's always a bit of a flash-back to high-school days, where I'd be the youngest on my basketball team and I could easily go to practices and say 'hi' and 'see ya' but nothing much in between. It's Shy Katie territory. I made a few in-context comments, like 'Good point' and 'Sorry about that - kinda led you into the wall with that pass' and 'Nah, I'll go on next point.' But nothing terribly chatty.

I've gone from being the captain to being something way down the line, quite happy to just follow and do what I'm told. I think the Creatures franchise is a place where they have more than enough chiefs, so I'm happy being an Indian.

*Note: The title of this blog is how a kid in my class actually read out that line from 'Twelth Night' when we were doing a read-through last term. Teaching has its humour.

On Buses.

I have been taking buses to and from town during the week to avoid the hassle of parking.

I had two nice bus drivers today. The first one was a lady. We were driving directly behind another trolley-bus from Manners St to Lambton Quay. Sitting in the back of the other trolley-bus was a women with two week kids, about 2 and 3 years old. They were very excited by the journey, and kept turning back to look at our bus. The driver of my bus would smile and wave at them, and they'd wave back. If they got a bit ahead of us, the kids would keep watching, wistfully.... until we caught up at the lights, where they'd wave to the driver again. You could tell she was quite enjoying this little interaction. Cute kids too - curly hair and big eyes and grins. I was thinking, 'How could a kid so angelic looking ever be any trouble??'

Then at the lights by the Old Bank Arcade our driver slowed down, then suddenly accelerated towards them for about a metre, just after the lights had gone red.... Some lady halfway across the crossing got a shock and shot my nice bus driver an evil glare. She looked like your typical middle-aged rich lady out to check out the latest stock at Kircaldies..... My driver just smiled and laughed. I think she got a kick out of giving the old biddy a scare. I enjoyed seeing that too.

Nice that she kept herself entertained :) Better than a grumpy driver.

* * *

Got a haircut today. Hairdressers are obsessed with cutting hair shorter and shorter and making fringes more pronounced. That is all I have to say about that.

* * *

I bought a couple of things from Riccochet. On sale, of course (their stuff is ridiculously expensive and I resent that you have to step outside the changing rooms to find a mirror). That means I am officially 'urban chic' now :) Or maybe I still have to buy something from Starfish....

Time Capsule - 1972

I ripped open another box of stuff-from-Dad's. This one had lots of clothes and stuffed toys. And it did have my mum's wedding dress in it. Here is a photo of my mum and dad on their wedding day. They had it at the Waterloo Hotel, which is now a backpackers, opposite the Wellington Railway Station. They didn't have any religious elements and wrote their own vows, which was rarer for the 70s. That's me and my brother having a bath, on the right. I miss Polaroid cameras.

Mum's dress was by some designer who had a boutique up north somewhere (quite trendy at the time, apparently). Dad wore a Spanish leather jacket that Mum made him buy (his only trendy clothes purchase ever).

I fit it. Only just. My mum was skinnier than me, pre-babies. She was a bean-pole (and it was the 70s and I think she did the odd bit of speed, if not other drugs, which she sincerely warned me against in my teens), though I think we're basically similar proportions.


It has moth-holes and rust stains on it now, but it's still quite beautiful to me. If you took the chiffon sleeves and chest bits off and made it a bit longer , it'd be pretty much exactly perfect. It has these really delicate pleats in the chiffon, from the waistband to mid-thigh, then it has looser pleats and flares out a little more, with a satin under-dress. I perhaps shouldn't have had my black leggings on under it...

I think me and Mum were both 'dress people'. It's funny to think of a parent as 'fashionable', since that element of them seems to be sacrificed once they have children (more fat, less money, less glamorous occasions). But I think Mum was a pretty stylish lady back in the swinging 60s and 70s.


A couple of weeks after my birthday this year, my life will be split in half exactly (half with Mum alive, half without). That's an odd thought.

To Quiz

1. Me and all of my flatmates (and other invited guests) went to the local quiz last night.

2. We named ourselves 'Crazy Cat Lady and Friends' after Carly and her antics on the walk to the pub (her cat followed us and had to be carried home, Mamma's Boy). We did not win any spot prizes.

3. I was disappointed that the quiz master was not the one from last time - this one did not wear the Quiz Master Cape with panache and he had to spell out the 'tricky' words.

4. I had fish for dinner. I hardly ever order the fish.

5. The people at the table next to me were people I'd gone to school with, all three of them. I didn't say hello though. I've seen them down there before, and once you don't say hello the first time it gets more awkward to suddenly pretend you recognise them..... I will say hi next time, though! They beat us in a tie-breaker. They are smart. All people from my town must therefore be smart. One of them was one of my brother's best friends at school. He seems very conservative, but secretly I know he has his nipples pierced.

6. It was a nice surprise when Sam turned up.

7. Reidun pointed out a guy she thought I'd like - and I'd already seen him earlier and thought that he was dapper looking. She knows my taste.

8. Apparently Danyon Loader was there, though I couldn't see him.

9. Kyle had heard the same quiz being read at his work earlier in the week - so he knew the ponderous puzzle before the first clue was even given. That may have helped our points total. Lichtenstein.

10. We all went for coffee and cake afterwards. That is not an easy task at 11pm on a Thursday, evidently. The first four places we tried already had the chairs up and shooed us away. We finally went to Midnight Espresso. I had a strawberry and rhubarb cake, which was good. It had fluffy pink icing.

* * *

I am now going to read 'The Half Brother' by Lars Saabye Christensen. I have read another book of his, 'Herman' which I thoroughly liked. It's about a balding boy whose dad is a crane driver and who has a crush on a girl with bright red hair. He's sweet. I like books with innocence and tiny observations.

* * *

I started learning how to play my ukulele in earnest tonight. I'm not sure if I have it tuned quite right. My highlight thusfar is learning to play 'Soon Forget' by Eddie Vedder. I've always liked that song. It's quite hard to play on the guitar, being barred on a very high fret, but relatively easy on the uke.

* * *

I had promised to email some feedback to students last week. I had put it off until yesterday. Three of them have emailed back saying 'thanks'. Some kids have good manners. If I had favourites, it might be them.

The things I'll do for Chocolate

Last night I bought a block of Cadbury Gold - a new flavour that's dark chocolate with crunchy toffee pieces (it was ok, but not as magical as I had imagined).

Today after school I hopped in my car and found two pieces had somehow escaped the pack and were sitting on the passenger seat next to me.

It had been sunny that afternoon, and they were quite melted and mushy.

Not one to waste good chocolate, I scraped off the blob from the top and ate it.

As I looked in the rear-view-mirror, licking my fingers, and saw the smears of chocolate around my face and glanced over at the brown chocolately stain left on the other seat.....

I realised it was not my best moment.

* * *

Speaking of delicious things.... while I have been vaguely aware of the 'delicious' website I only just got myself an account this weekend.

It's awesome! I've heard the novelty wears off, but for now I am book-marking and tagging like crazy.

Toy Story 3

I haven't really watched the previous Toy Story movies (enough of the quotes and images are ingrained in kid-pop-culture that I feel like I've seen them, though).

But Rich had cheap tickets and I tend to like the good quality kiddie-cartoony things.

It was decent. It left me less frustrated than Inception.

I think I have a rather immature emotional core, so I do like the simple moral messages in those kinda films. Loyalty and courage are pretty awesome values. If only life was so simple.

It made me think of my favourite childhood toy, Ellie. I was bloody loyal to Ellie. He went on many family trips with me and I pretend-stitched up the hole in his neck many times (for some reason I thought it necessary to douse him in talcum powder each time I pretend-operated on him - wasn't quite sure what else to use it for and I had a couple of containers of it from Nana).

But I don't know where Ellie is.

It causes me pangs of anxiety.

I know that he was at my Dad's house. I know that when he moved in with his wife, Ellie was put in a box labelled 'stuffed toys'. I know that he was on a shelf up in the loft of the new house for a while.

I also know that their dog likes to chew soft toys and had been fed many of my old stuffed animals (to my chagrin). I also know that many of my old toys had been regifted to younger nephews and neices. But surely Ellie was too old and beat-up to be donated.....

They have moved house again and Ellie was apparently boxed up with some other 'treasures' for me, which I only just got .... but he's not in any of the boxes.

I have to accept the fact that Ellie may have been eaten by a dog.

That makes me feel bad.

I think this incident may come up if I even need counselling and am asked, 'So how did your father's remarrying affect you?'

Now that's what I call a haka. From the NZ Maori vs England.


(I stoled the link from a proper blog.)

Good Conception

I really wanted to like 'Inception' - to love it, even.

1. I like Chris Nolan's films of late ('Dark Knight', 'Momento')
2. I like Leonardo's films of late ('The Departed', 'Shutter Island')
3. I like Ellen Page ('Juno')
4. I like twist endings - I heard this had a good one

It's always a bit of a burden for a film to live up to expectations of 'Best film of the year', which had been bandied about in reviews. But then, the same had been said about 'Dark Knight' and I had come out of that impressed.

Anyhow, I didn't love it.

'Inception' has a rather nifty premise and a few interesting complications. It has some good visual effects. But that's about it.

The trickier philosophical aspects of the dream-state, which could have been explored in an interesting way, were just kinda brushed over. I found the ensemble cast a bit uncohesive, with some characters seeming random or unnecessary (especially Ellen Page's character, who served very little purpose really - it could certainly have been played by some generic actor, as I don't think the role used her real skills and she become quite annoying). The whole last section was this very loud, unrelenting chase scene. Like Richard, I found it really loud and would have liked some respite, perhaps a nice bit of dialogue or genuine character development.

The highlight for me was Jonathan Gordan-Levitt's character. That kid is becoming pretty suave.

Anyhow, not a bad movie, but for me it didn't have the emotional depth of 'Dark Knight'.

Dialogue - anyone can write it!

So, in 'The Room', Tommy uses dialogue to tell the story. Literally. And as Richard pointed out, if he thinks the audience might have missed something (which would be impossible with the sledge-hammer subtlty of the film) he'll repeat it in the next scene.

Say, for example there is a scene where Tommy wants to establish that Lisa (Johnny's fiance) is really in love with Mark, but that it is wrong because Mark is Johnny's best friend... the dialogue would go something like this:

Lisa: Hi Mark - I'm in love with you.
Mark: But I can't do anything.... Johnny's my best friend.
Lisa: But I want your body. I'm not in love with him anymore.
Mark: But he's my best friend!
Lisa: I know he's your best friend, but I don't love him anymore.

Genius. As I tell my classes, 'Show, don't tell'.

It is pointed out so many times that Mark is Johnny's best friend that it is custom to yell 'Johnny's your best friend!' any time Mark comes on the screen.

Classic Dialogue - Top Five
1. 'Oh, hi!'

The movie is pretty much a series of people entering and exiting rooms (usually 'The Room' but sometimes the rooftop too). Every time anyone comes in, they are greeted with, 'Oh, hi [insert name]'. Never any surprise or note of bitterness over the fact that these people just keep turning up uninvited.

A classic example follows - Johnny goes up to the tiny rooftop ranting to himself, and about 10 seconds later notices that Mark is up there too. It's easy to miss someone up there....


2. What's in your pocket?

At the surprise party, a mysterious new character turns up and starts talking to everyone like he's a main character. In the credits he comes up as 'Steven' but in reality he got given Peter's lines when the actor left mid-shoot. Tommy didn't feel this needed to be explained or that the script might need amending.... nobody will notice.....

Anyhow, check out this BURN from Mark.



Hell yeah, I'm gonna use that next time someone says something stupid in my comments.

3. Unecessary Redundancies

Lisa: Did you get your promotion?
Johnny: Nah.
Lisa: You didn't get it, did you?
4. Johnny is Smart and So is Lisa
Johnny's response on walking in to The Room to find there's a surprise birthday party for him.

Johnny: Thank you honey, this is a beautiful party! You invited all my friends. Good thinking!

Bonus quote: Tommy researched what people do all day at the bank, so make Johnny's career seem believable. Followed by a masterful deflection question that seamlessly fit into the conversation.

Mark: How was work today?
Johnny: Oh pretty good. We got a new client... at the bank. We make a lot of money.
Mark: What client?
Johnny: I can not tell you, it's confidential.
Mark: Oh come on. Why not?
Johnny: No I can't. Anyway, how is your sex life?

5. Sexy Talk

It realls does sound like a soft-porn....

Lisa: I just wanted to hear your sexy voice. I keep thinking about your strong hands around my body. It excites me so much.

Space Age

They have promised it for years. Since the Jetsons and Star Trek, I have been eagerly awaiting the 'future'.

Now, at work, I finally feel I am there.

We are now able to [drum-roll please]..... enter the roll by computer! No more grudgingly spending 5 minutes after school scrawling out the names of all the kids who were away. No siree.

My life has changed. I will never again have to get to 4pm, about to leave, and curse at the 'bloody yellow sheet' I have forgotten to fill in. Never again!

Goodbye, Yellow Sheet!

* * *

And Clayton was found guilty. There is sense. And no more 'provocation'. Good good. And for purposely being a dickhead during his trial, he now has death-threats. Give you something to think about.

* * *

My Wolverine-claw scares the cat. My claws are bigger than his. And they go 'cha-ching' when I extend them. He is in awe of my awesomeness.

* * *

And the Elf-Girl..... has written all her poems about elves. I very seriously said, 'Didn't we agree only two of them would be about elves?' and she corrected me saying, 'But that one's just about a dragon.'

I am ignorant. Elves, fairies, dragons .... aren't they all the same?

I may well be the meanest teacher ev-er.

Must-see Movie - Unintentional Genius

Rich had given me a list of movies he wanted to see at the Film Festival. There were only a couple I could actually go to, so I said I'd see 'The Room' with him. I knew nothing about it, other than that the short review in the guide said it was the 'Citizen Kane of bad films' which seemed a lofty compliment. And it said it was directed/written/produced/funded by (for $6million) and starred an eccentric and somewhat hideous man, Tommy Wiseau.

To be honest, I wasn't that fussed about it, but fancied a night out at a potentially weird film. Richard apologised-in-advance for it, as he suspected it might be a flop. Sam sniggered at us and said he was definitely not going to this one.

How wrong could we all be!

IT WAS AMAZING!

To tell you the truth, I have much trepidation about writing a review of it, because I know I will not do it justice. But I will attempt do share the joy that was 'The Room' by Tommy Wiseau.

1. The Theatre

There is a definite difference between a good film and a good movie-going-experience. Rich and I will often go to a very good film, which we'll admit we enjoyed on a cinematic and philosophical level, but would not recommend to many people we know. When we walked out of this film, still laughing, we were already talking about buying a copy of it and forcing our friends to watch

('Morgan would love how perfectly bad it is.... Michelle loves bad movies anyhow - so many quotes for her to learn!..... Sam will have to admit that he made a mistake!').

Back to the movie-going experience, then.

Everything seemed relatively normal until people started giving out packs of plastic spoons.

Large pockets of people burst into applause when the 'Wiseau Productions' logo came onto the screen. The guy introducing the film on the mic had warned that people in Auckland had been yelling out lines of their favourite dialogue before it happened and had some off as cocks..... The anticipation was high at this point.

Somewhere in the first ten minutes, on cue, hundreds of plastic spoons were thrown at the screen as everyone chorused 'SPOONS!'.

A spoon landed fortuitously on my lap, which I kept as a momento. Another one hit me on the side of the head, but I didn't mind. Rich figured out part-way through the film at what moments they were doing it and I've found clips of similar screenings on youtube.





2. Actors
The actors, from the very first soft-porn scene, were terrible. To be fair, in terms of plot and dialogue, they didn't have much to work with, so it was only partially their fault.

The director/actor played the lead role of 'Johnny'. He has a European accent, something akin to what Arnold Schwartenager sounded like in his earliest films. He seemed to emphasise the wrong words and had huge pauses at odd moments. And he had a fake laugh, where he tilted his head back, which he did some 300 times in the film (someone counted). Apparently most of his dialogue had to be redubbed, so he looks oddly ninja-like in that his timing is a little off.

From his very first line of dialogue I had to join in with the laughter. I'm not a laugh-out-loud at movies kinda girl, normally. But this one had me at 'hello' (or 'oh, hi!').

On top of his terrible line-delivery, he's an odd looking man. He looks like a 45 year old who's had a lot of surgery to try to look 30 and the end result is somewhat grotesque. In the sex scenes, you can see his 'muscles', which are oddly lumpy and look like cellulite has been injected into muscle-pockets around his body. As director, he is drawn to close-up shots of his own clenching buttocks during the sex scenes. He is really clenching, too. There are fist-sized dimples in his buttocks cheeks. No body doubles in this film.

It really does come across as a soft-porn made by a rich guy who wanted to do a wee project with his buddies, none of whom could act. Yet, having read reviews, this apparently was something like 12 years in the planning. And he auditioned people. He has written a play and novel of the same title. He is actually trying.....

Here is one of the best bits of acting from him in the movie:



To be continued.....

Watch out for the terrible dialogue, continuity gaffs and culdersac plot lines.

And here's a link to another review that puts it well, to all those smug people who don't want to see 'another bad movie' (it even has a rap video homage to 'The Room').

Back at school. It's ok.

I wore jeans on Friday. Got a couple of comments about how it looked casual. Other people wear jeans all the time. Truth is, only reason I don't usually wear jeans is because I'm too fat for most of mine. Just got a new pair that's fairly generously proportioned. Hence I wore them.

* * *

Had my Logan Brown dinner. Nice! Free Logan Brown is the best. I had fish croquettes, roast pork and a chocolate pot. They all had fancier names than that, of course. I'm a fan of the $40 bistro menu, and I didn't even feel hungry afterwards.

* * *

Went to a Film Fest movie with Rich and Sam today. It was decent. It was probably a little more Hollywood-y in its formula than your usual Film Fest fare, but it was good. Had some interesting religious tussles in it. The slave guy was hot.

Going to another one tonight - the review said it is the 'Citizen Cane of bad movies'. Awesome!

* * *

I love chewing gum. Makes me feel like I'm on speed or something.

* * *

Having Japanese for dinner again tonight. Bring it on! In about the last month I've had Japanese take-aways from my local, gone to two different restaurants and rocked it at the sushi-train with Cass (who was a sushi-train virgin). Turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese, I really think so.

* * *

I'm really slow at the moment. I was totally rubbish at netball and basketball this week. Slower than usual even. And no reserves of energy. I think I'm old. And out of shape. And stuff.

* * *

Erm. What else...... Nothing really. My Levin friends had a baby called Thomas. None of you would know them, though. Lynne got out of hospital last weekend after about four or five days in there. Sounded ok. I'll have to go down and visit them all soonish.

* * *

Looking forward to a weekend away next week - Justin's 30th. He's sent us a menu and drinks list - awesome! I think we're all just gonna be drunk, playing poker.

* * *

Though I still refuse to read the books, as an actually literate person, I do admit to liking the Twilight movies. Not for their cinematic qualities, but for the angst and sexual tension between the young hotties. I'm embracing the cougar within. I may have mentioned this. I will now openly defend the hotness of Jacob and deride anyone who is loyal to Edward.

* * *

I was explaining the whole Naspter/Metallica thing and was happy that kids in my class actually knew who Metallica were (whereas I had to explain that Napster was kinda like Limewire, 'cause they hadn't heard of that website before).

* * *

I'm texting like there's no tomorrow at the moment. Gotta use up my 300 free Two-Degrees texts before the month is up! Feel free to send me non-transactional texts - I may actually reply! Makes me feel like Santa Claus, generously replying willy-nilly to texts I'd usually file in the no-response-necessary basket.

* * *

Roger that.



Over and out, Big Mama.

Svend brings up a good point. If the Spice Girls are to the younger generation what Abba was to us...... what else can we compare.....

Maybe the Jimi Hendrix of our generation was Jeff Buckley. Maybe Jack Johnson was the Donavan.

Alanis Morisette was the the Janis Joplin (though a poor substitute), or maybe Tracy Chapman is better. Britney Speares was the Judy Garland.

I can't quite figure out who Nirvana equal.

You're not a unique and beautiful snowflake, buddy.

I find some psychopaths and criminals fascinating. I was that kid who got out books on serial killers from the library. I read all about Ted Bundy and the Boston Strangler. I admire Hanibal Lector as I see him in films.

The murderer currently in our nation's news is quite uninteresting, though (irritating, but uninteresting). There's something pathetic about someone so desperate to be studied or looked at as a special case. He has put himself on display and seems to almost sit on the stand smugly saying, 'Aren't I fascinating?' when he's really just someone you'd meet and say, 'Wow - he's a bit of a dick.'

Obviously a dick to the point that he's unstable and not fit to be amongst people. My resident law-graduate says there's not much hope of him getting his manslaughter conviction, which comforts me.

As is now the focus of the trial, all of this may well have been hammed for the benefit of his defence, which hinges on his being narcissistic.

I read someone's take on why the 'provocation' loophole should be closed up. Seemed logical. I like to think there are no circumstances under which someone could provoke me to murder them.

Prisons seem to be filled with people who have some kind of mental illness or trauma inflicted on them, so you can to an extent feel sorry for a lot of them. You could make an extreme case for them all being victims. It's this logic that makes me agree that we shouldn't have a death penalty. But, if someone can't control themselves to the point that they're a danger to other people, they should certainly be in jail.

To me, that's the purpose of jail. It's not so much a punishment for criminals as it is a safeguard to society. We have a kind of delicate balance where we have to trust that other people will respect our basic rights. Laws can only go so far in ensuring this, so we have to believe that people around us have empathy and control.

Anyhow. I digress.

In short, send him to jail. For a long time. But don't write a book about him. I'm sure if anyone did, he'd offer to sign copies of it from his jail-cell and write the foreword himself.

* * *

Ultimate - a synonym for 'supreme'?

Cassie's little brother finds good pages to link to.

This page is funny. This entry is funny especially because I have played Ultimate and I am white! And, come to think of it, my team was pretty much white too.

Whipper Snappers

The mid-week basketball league has two things that go against my team. Firstly, they used to have a rule where no inter-city players could play in it during the winter season. My team has no inter-city players, so that's good for us. It means the other teams have a lot more old ladies in them. Back in those days we even made the finals of the top grade occasionally.

They don't have that rule anymore. So we're playing the best players in Wellington sometimes. And the teams tend to be stacked, rather than just have one or two good players. They flock to the same clubs (not ours).

Secondly, the league starts off with a mixed A and B division, then splits mid-season after grading games. We usually fall just bellow the middle of the pack, so we have a nice time in B grade.

This season the team that's usually the whipping-boy of A grade 'lost' their game to us (we have conspiracy theories) which meant we went up to A grade.

Holy crap.

We're playing kids in their 20s who train and full court press. We do ok inside on defence, but these teams play set plays where they pretty much swing it around the court to get 3 pointers in the corner, or they fast break. A lot.

In this picture, I'd like to say it's the red reflecting off my shirt... but it's not. This is 20 minutes after our game. I had no subs all game. We were playing a team of mostly Asian girls, with two giants (Polynesian/Asian hybrids). We were only down 15-10 after about the first quarter.

Then they full-court pressed and went on a 50-4 run.

Ouch.

I caught some little five foot Chinese girls on fast breaks and blocked them. That was the only high point in an awful game.

And this is pretty typical of the A grade. Last week we lost by 20 against the Under 17 Wellington team (which has junior NZ players in it) and we felt pretty good.

I'm tired.

Highlights

1. The Walk

One of the most important moments for the maid of the bride is the walk down the aisle. At the rehearsal the photographer and celebrant both berated me for walking too fast when it was my turn. So that was something to concentrate on.

Then on the day, when not wearing my sneakers this time, I realised the hazard of walking down a grassy aisle between two grapevines. My stilettos sunk pretty much all the way into the dirt. Sarah had advised beforehand that I needed to walk on my toes to avoid sinking in. There were also huge cracks in the paving stones once you reached the court-yard, which I had to make my way across somehow. The whole time I was repeating a mantra to myself of, 'Walk on your toes. Not too fast. Avoid the cracks. Smile.' I'm sure I looked elegant and relaxed....

I had romantic visions of losing a shoe Cinderella style, but it didn't happen.

By the end of the ceremony I really was wondering why Sarah had picked me for such an elegant ocassion... did she not remember what I was like???



(The picture is a self portrait done in the bathroom to try and capture the glory of The Silver - my aim was not great.)

2. The Signing
Pretty much the only other thing I had to do was sign the wedding certificate. It was sitting on a little table, with three lit candles in front of it, two of them tapered. As I went to sit down I somehow hit one of the tapered ones (which were fairly unsteady looking anyhow) and it started falling towards my face. I think I caught it just as the flame danced upon my chin.

I propped it back up and wondered if it would have been a bad omen if I'd extinguished the flame of Sarah's family..... Then the celebrant came and started wiping at my chin, saying there was actually something there. So I had candle-ash on my chin.

I was then so flustered that I may have spelt some of the details on the certificate wrong (my street address...). There is a lot to write! And everybody is just sitting there watching and you get through it all and the celebrant tells you to write it all again on the second copy!

I was very close to almost burning the certificate or perhaps lighting my hairspray filled hair into a fire ball. Close escape....

3. The Wine
Sarah had recommended the pinot noir, which was $90 a bottle. I had a glass of that and kept thinking that it was odd I'd only had one sip.... then realised that the waiters were refilling it every time they came past. That's a worry.

The crowd was an odd combination of Germans, who seemed to stick together and liked speaking German and drinking.... and the kiwis, who were quite reserved. Hard to mingle in.

Once the dancing started I felt it my obligation to represent NZ on the floor. At first it was just Germans up there. So I downed a few more quick wines and got up. As conspicuous as I felt, in my shiny bottom-highlighting dress, I stayed dancing until the bitter end. I know that couples feel bad if they've hired a DJ and picked music and it's not utilised with dancing. Afraid the open bar was running out, I had a couple more glasses of wine.

By midnight I may have been starting to get tipsy. Maybe. It was just me and the Germans and I began 'speaking German'. It may have been just broken English with a thick German accent, but I felt it had to be done. Apparently I kept it up for quite some time. Me and the best man went back to our villa and the bride's parents and the brides and groom were still up having cups of tea. They evidently found me quite amusing and requested repeats of my stunning German the next day.

Meanwhile there was some lovely German boy I was supposed to meet, talk to, fall in love with and marry. I think I talked to him at the bar for five minutes when I was already on the way to my tipsy state. He seemed nice enough, but he didn't propose or anything.

4. The Bath

The villa was incredibly over the top and luxurious. It was like a mini Elton John mansion. Every room had a Chandler and every couch had 20 cushions. One of the bathrooms had a bath with mirrors on three sides of it. I had to try it.

I could not think of anything less appealing than standing up dripping wet and seeing naked Kates to infinity, but it provided me with a morbid fascination.

The post-wedding morning the mother of the bride offered me the use of ensuite with the mirrors. I had to take the opportunity. My ensuite only had a shower. A nice shower, albeit, but it had no porn-star mirrors.

It was surprisingly tasteful. Once you were sitting in the bath, you could only really see the top of your torso. I could have taken some very tasteful soft-porn of myself (had I not misplaced my camera in my drunken state). And by the time I stood up at the end, the mirrors had all fogged up.

In my wardrobe there was a big fluffy robe and slippers. I wore the slippers for most of the two days I was there. It may have looked odd, especially at the brunch the next day... but it had to be done. It was my Hugh Heffner touch.

PS - While I think the bride realised The Silver Dress was not my best look ever, there was no conversation about its ill-fitting-ness. It went unsaid. She was so on edge enough that I said I loved everything - and I mainly did. The Bride does not read my blog (hence I can be more candid here) but she does read my facebook (hence there is no mention of my trepidation towards the dress on there).

I'm not insulting her taste, as such. She is an incredibly stylish person. More so than myself. The dress itself would look stunning on a really thin person. The fact that she thought it would look good on me might really be a compliment to me.... and she did, in the end, let me wear my own shoes! (After I showed her a picture of them and they were deemed acceptable. Phew.)

A few people made some generic comments about me looking lovely, but a more common question was, 'So, did you get the dress or did the bride get it in London?' to which I would wholeheartedly say, 'Oh - she got it. In London.' That would satisfy their curiosity and I sensed sympathy at that point.

Phone Contact

I really don't like phones. I think it's a primary motivator to my career choice - not much use of telephones as a teacher. I cringe pretty much any time someone walks up to me with a phone and says it's for me. It can never be a good thing. Especially at work. It'll be someone trying to direct-market their printing services to me or it'll be some parent with an issue, to which the answer may well be 'Your kid just needs to harden up' (which is a response we're not allowed to use, by law....).

And that extends to my personal life. Phones are yuck. They are good when I'm trying to organise things with friends (even though I have been accused of being crap even at that interaction). They are good when I have a crush on a guy and he texts me something that actually means 'I was thinking of you' in code.

In most other contexts I do not like them.

They intrude upon the Bubble of Kate. They demand a response, even if I really don't want to give one. They haunt me if I don't respond and know I should.

I like this page of World Cup advertising stuff. Interesting ideas.

* * *

I like messing with kids.

My five year old step-neice has a chalk-board in her lounge.

She was getting me to draw pictures of the giant squid she'd seen at Te Papa the previous day. I got her flustered by drawing shoes and a moustache on it - she had to rub it out with her hands. But then she didn't mind when I gave it sharp teeth and drew blood around its mouth.

She liked it so much that she copied it at lunch. She kept hanging food out of her mouth and saying, 'It's my blooooood, like the squid.'

* * *

Saw a thriller from Argentina last night at the Penthouse. It came together nicely at the end (though rather conveniently). I can imagine it being remade in America with Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts.....

* * *

I don't know why the quiz team vetoed my idea of 'Team Jacob' as our name. Even Ant admitted he'd turn gay for Jacob.

* * *

While my geometic moo-moo dress was a risky purchase, I'm glad I made it. Moo-moo dresses rule! They're the ultimate outfit to wear for a yum-cha lunch or family dinner at the Chinese restaurant. Just give me a sack with a belt and I'm happy!

And the 'muted colours' (as described by a Design student I teach) make me 'on trend'.

Yeah, I watch the E channel too much.......

* * *

I'm still miffed about the laundromat fantasies not being real. Today a guy came in when I'd just got up to put more money in my machine.... and I'd left my magazine at the chair I'd been sitting at..... and he stole my place! I had to rather obviously go and rescue my magazine from under the Magnum icecream he'd just put on top of it while he loaded his machine. Hmmmph!

* * *

The satay sauce in a pouch that you can get from Moore Wilson's or Pak 'n' Save (for pretty much the same price) is delicious! I may have mentioned this before, but I had some tonight with chicken and Singapore noodles and it was just like real takeaways! Look on the cold-shelf at your local.

I like how we're going all old-school with the cigarette ban in jails. Everybody loves a black-market! Trading cigarettes will make them feel like they're in an old gangster movie. Fun!

* * *

I love how the Film Fest is somewhat of a military mission with itinerary and spreadsheets! Serious business.

* * *

We are starting a work indoor netball team. I hope it ends up being like the work team on Shortland Street! It was bitchy. I have to decide who's going to be the 'Gerald' of the team. I like to see myself as a bit of a TK...... fair, but competitive.

* * *

There has been talk of 33 being the start of the mid-thirties. I refute this theory. It's still early thirties.... 30-33 (early 30s), 34-36 (mid 30s) and 37-39 (late 30s). I think 33 is the pivotal year, but I still group it with the early years. So there.

Reward.

NO MORE REPORTS! I CAN WATCH TV AGAIN!

Finished reports this morning at 8.30am, after three nights of work from 5pm to embarrassingly late, with only food, Shortland St and shower breaks.

So I did nice stuff this afternoon (it was my day where my last lesson finishes at 11.10am). I went shopping and bought a couple of new wardrobe items at lunch (the other embarrassing thing is that I banned myself from any frivalous shopping between my last two pay days... and my bank account went up by $700).

Anyhow.

After that I went to the laundromat to dry my washing (it's been a few weeks.... I was down to the bad-underwear at the bottom of the drawer - you know what I'm talking about!).

Then I watched about three hours of stuff that was taped on MySky. I have to confess that the new Star Trek movie is actually pretty good - everyone who'd said that to my disbelief at the time it came out was right. Then Cougar Town. Then Shortland Street. Then House. Then Grey's Anatomy. Then Private Practice. Then Brothers and Sisters. Ok.... it could have been more like five hours.

Awesome! And no ads.

Now I'm dying my hair (well overdue - two naive kids in my class sincerely said my hair looked 'cool' the other day because it was two different colours).

I feel like I've had a productive day!

I'm kinda human again.

Now I just have to wax my legs......


MUST START LEARNING GERMAN

Earlier this week I got sent some wedding photos from my bridesmaid outing a couple of months ago.

If they were the best of the bunch, it's really not good. At least I can say I was brave. I went out there smiling!

Today a cute German guy from the wedding friended me on Facebook. That was a pleasant surprise. He was NOT the one the bride had been hoping to set me up with (the one I started talking to in a drunken faux-German accent towards the end of the night). He was the one who spoke barely any English and had a girlfriend. But he was tall. Very tall. And he spent most of the day-after brunch hunched over the stove making a giant omelette for 30 people. I was standing next to him making coffee for everyone (I was the only one who figured out the fancy automated coffee machine, so I got stuck there all morning). We bonded. I made him coffee.

But he had a girlfriend. Still, it was a pleasant surprise. You never know who it's gonna be when you click on the 'friend request' button. Sometimes it's pleasant. Other times you cringe and think, 'Man - I have to cut somebody to be friends with them! I'm only allowed 80! But I gotta do it cause they're somebody I actually run into and it's awkward not to.....' Well, that's what I think, anyhow. Not with anyone who's likely to read this (obviously..... hopefully). The quota system is harsh. Unfortunately for Guid, he didn't make the cut.

YOU WERE THE 81ST FRIEND - AND UNFORTUNATELY, THIS IS AN ELIMINATION ROUND.....

This time I deleted a girl I went to school with. Our families were friends, so I saw a bit of her..... but I never liked her that much, to be honest. She was one of those social climbers who was always looking to get 'in' with the rugby crowd. I never really liked those sorts. And she's become uber-Christian, so most of her updates are her sending vitual angels to people. And she has about 600 friends, so she's not gonna miss me.

She was the weakest link. Goodbye!

Toilet Paper is really Archaic

This is in Time magazine's 50 Worst Inventions ever. Apparently it was real.

Commando is funny to watch as a grown-up. 80s movies had balls. And a cavalier disregard for reality. Fantastic. It brought back deeply-burried memories of playing the C64 Commando game.

Then Michelle made us watch Night as the Roxborough. It has two good lines in it. One was 'Is your name Tattoo? Can you see da plane? Cause I think you're on Fantasy Island' (said to someone who was way off the mark). I forget the other one.

We ate pizza. The burger flavoured pizza at Dominos is surprisingly good. If you like mayonnaise sweetness. It followed the pistachio and chocolate twirl danish thing I got from Moore Wilson's.

* * *

I like my new winter coat. It's atually quite similar to my old winter coat, but it is longer in both the body and arms. My old one was kinda cropped in that Audrey Hepburn 1950s kinda way. This one is more of a pea-coat length. Excellent. And it has giant pockets.

* * *

I like my new Goldair heater too. I had a Warehouse brand for a while and it finally died compeltely (after being a little bit dead for quite some time). It really is worth spending the extra $30 to get the Goldair. I'm lying on my bed with my foot dangling down and it's toasty warm.

* * *

I like 'A Single Man'. I liked it a lot. It was nicely filmed and well acted and smart. I would never have picked that the pretty student in it was the boy from 'About a Boy'. Not in a million years. He does charming as well as he does dorky.

Colin Firth has a bizarre kind of handsomeness. He looks like someone's dad and can be frumpy-faced... yet the way he wears a suit makes up for it all. That and the self-effacing charm.

* * *

I have been watching interviews with the guy who plays Sheldon. He seems to ham up the Sheldon-ness in some of them. I am trying to decide whether he is worth having a geek-crush on.

Toy Story 3

It gives me pride and nostalgia that the Barbie used in Toy Story 3 is the main one I had as a child.

It's Jazzercise Barbie. She has on a one-piece aqua coloured lycra suit and leg warmers. At the time I was a bit disappointed - who wants a Barbie that isn't in a pretty dress?

But now she's cool. She's endured. (You can see her in the background of this pic - she has a big scene with a Ken doll in the film, apparently - she compliments on his nice 'ascot').

Rage

I like to think I'm maturing into a scary, mean, irritable teacher.

After having a rant about cheaters, my class was scared into including masses of drafts attached at the back when they handed in their most recent assignments.

They fear me and my paranoia.

* * *

Two quizzes. Two second places.

* * *

I need a new black cardigan. And a colourful scarf. And more things with patterns on them.

* * *

I'm liking mushrooms at the moment. And raw carrots.

I'm having banana on toast for lunch most days. It's good. I cut the banana lengthwise so it looks cafe-style.

* * *

I don't know anything that's going on in the world. I'm ignorant.

A kid in my class used an example of a song by Alicia Keyes (featuring Beyonce) in class and said earnestly, 'Do you know who they are?'

Old.

But some other kids said they only thought I was 29 or so.

Young.

* * *

Sleepy. Sore back.

Cat Stevens

1. It's annoying how lots of great acts only come to Auckland and Christchurch. Stupid Wellington stadiums.

2. Would he be playing his cool old stuff or his weird new stuff?

Cheaters

I was reading through a class set of essays that count for internal credits. I found two that had cheated and copied hunks out of essays they'd found online. Idiots. At first I was thinking 'Wow - nicely put - we didn't cover that in class'.... and eventually that turned into 'Hmmm - come to think of it, that's not actually addressing the right topic, and I don't remember her draft being that good.'

Nice to know I can confidently pick a cheat (the two I was suspicious about quickly turned up as essays in google searches) and that our internal checking systems work.

But not nice that two pretty decent kids thought that was their best option. Those won't be fun conversations tomorrow. They coulda just been like the rest of the class and written mediocre essays full of errors that failed for solid and ethically sound reasons. That would've taken minimal effort.

Busy Weekend

I feel like I've been busy this weekend. I haven't had time to do my down-time stuff like shuffling around the mess in my room and watching stuff I taped on MySky. Not good! And I'm super-tired tonight.

All brought upon by myself, mind you. And a lot of my current lethargy is to do with eating crappy but yummy food while socialising. Bready goodness and pizza and pancakes and caramel slice.

I might go and eat a carrot right now. The fact that I didn't brush my teeth properly this morning because someone was in the bathroom when I got up isn't helping either.

Crafting

I should think more deeply about the act of crafting. We had a loosely defined craft afternoon yesterday. It was fun. Though, for my own sense of pride I have, when in the company of manly-men, referred to it as a Project Group rather than a Craft Circle.

My step-mother belongs to a group called Yack and Tack, which is a bunch of ladies who get together and quilt and gossip and stuff. They drank one of my dad's best bottles of wine once. It has become a thing of legend through its retelling.

People did things from baking scones to building model planes (guess who) or making jewelry or putting photos in a photo album. I made a ladder for leprachauns (a wall hanging ladder thingie that I haven't fully decided what I'll do with yet).

Is it the comfortable atmosphere of people in their own little zones, ocassionally chatting to each other, but focussed on their own projects as well that makes it a less demanding social interaction?

Or is it that people doing creative things are inherently happier?

Something about them is just nice. I like it when a social event has a tangible outcome.

Taking Short Cuts

Rewind Time, Please. Give me back my hair!

I often leave the hairdressers with great trepidation. I am an 'adventurous' hair client in that I often let my hairdresser do what he likes. I'll give him a basic length I'm willing to go to and he goes nuts from there.

Sometimes it works out great.

Sometimes I get a little worried.

Today I'm a little worried.

Maybe it'll grow in and look better when it's a little longer.....

I'm looking back at photos from my road trip earlier this week wistfully.... so much glorious hair.... no fringe...... why didn't I just ask for a trim this time?

Sigh.

* * *

.... to Cheer Myself Up....

I got some nice clothes today. That cheers me up. Yay for sales at Rex Royale and Andrea Moore! Bring on American Idol tonight. I got something called a 'rosebud' skirt. I like it. It kinda has petal folds at the front.

I'm loving yogurt at the moment.

* * *

Local Loyalty

For consistency and taste you really can't beat my local cafe, Salvation. I had a salmon bagel in town at Ernesto's and it was by far inferior to my local. My local toasts it and has capers to make it taste yummier.

* * *

Medial Mystery - Modern Society's Perils on Sensitive Skin

I have this patch of eczema on my hand. It's kinda down palm-side by my little finger on my right hand. My googling skills has diagnosed it as 'pompholyx' eczema.

It's a certain type of eczema that has little blistery bubbles under the skin. It can get quite sore.

I've noticed that when I go on holiday somewhere it mostly goes away.

I'm trying to figure out what it is in my daily life that irritates it. The website says it can be irritated by chemicals or cleaners or contact with nickel. Where would I find nickel in my everyday life???

I have a few theories. I seem to have a lot of things that rub against that part of my hand during the course of the day that are plastic or rubber, and it doesn't seem to like this.

Mostly it's my laptop. When I use the mousepad bit and tend to rest my right hand on the edge of the laptop. I've been trying to retrain myself to stop doing this.

Then there's my tooth brush. Sometimes in the morning after I've held my rubber padded toothbrush I start to feel a stinging on my hand. But I use this on holidays, so it mustn't be a major irritant.

Then there's the steering wheel of my car. I mostly use my right hand, which again would explain it only being on my right hand and not my left (as would the others).

Then there are little things, like the rubber grip bit on the Sky remote, which nestles right into that part of my palm. And there's the rubber handle on the kettle.

Why is the world filled with so many rubber things that you hold????

I'm thinking of getting a little fingerless glove to wear on that hand when I'm using my laptop or driving. I already use one rubber glove when I'm doing cleaning around the house.

I'll either look like Madonna, Michael Jackson or a professional ten-pin bowler. I can't lose!

On the Road Again

What if Pac Man was real.... like something from Saw.

Roadies

I find road trips are useful mainly for forming opinions about your home town. I tripped around the North Island and constantly compared things from the weather to banana bread with how they are in Wellington.

Turns out Wellington kinda sucks on lots of fronts. But it's still home.

I'm not a Taupo fan. Have never really seen the appeal, maybe because I don't fish or do a lot of adventure tourism. I go to Auckland infrequently enough that it tends to pleasantly surprise me. I liked what I saw of Whangarei, which I've never been to before. To be fair, I mainly saw the backpackers (which is very plush for a backpackers - the queen stayed there back in the day - $40 each for a double room with a fancy tiled ensuite with bath) and the marina. And they put out a great little magazine about Northland that I picked up and read in a few cafes.

Cass is a great person to road trip with. It's a hard dynamic to get right, but we managed it well. Four nights away and the most stressful bits were when we were driving around Auckland, but we'd gone off the map and couldn't find a motel in peak hour traffic on a Friday night. There was a bit of delerium there but we made it through.

We played it all by ear, booking nothing in advance and changing our plans as we went with no real agenda. Cass is my photo buddy, so we took lots of those along the way. And drank a lot of coffee. And rocked out to cheesy music from the 90s. Sweet.

Weirdos and Backpackers

The weirdest night was in Taupo, at the dodgey backpackers. We decided to give a dorm room a go (since everything else was booked out at both places we'd tried and we, at that point, were determined to do things cheap).

Not realising that it was a room was above a night club. I was on the top bunk and I could still feel the room vibrating til about 1am. Soon after that someone started dumping and smashing crates full of bottles right outside out window as they packed up for the night (and some other truck came to pick them up at dawn, with more noisy smashing). So we figured we might as well sit outside and eat our Doritos and drink wine for a bit, since there was no chance of sleep. Plus we didn't want to have to share with our foreign roomies.

And two creepy guys came up to us. One of them was a Wellingtonian on his own road trip (having recently been made redundant) and the other was the old guy who managed the place. The older guy tried to 'enlighten us' (not that we'd asked him to) and lectured Cassie about various overly personal issues for about an hour. He then turned to me and accused me of thinking he was a loon.

I did think he was a loon, but I euphemistically said, 'Oh, I'm just quite cynical.' He then said he was cynical too and listed lots of conspiracy theories he had heard about (as some kind of illogical evidence that he wasn't a loon). Seeing I was still unconvinced, he said that if he held a person's hand he could tell an amazing amount about them. It was his gift.

My hand stayed firmly under my blanket (it was cold outside, so I had my argyle throw rug on).

He then said, 'Let me guess some things about you.' I didn't really agree but he started anyway.

'You're from a private school.' Cassie actually guffawed at this. I shook my head and smugly said, 'You're wrong.' Undefeated, he went on to guess that my parents had wanted me to go to private school. Again, Cassie guffawed. She has heard about the liberal Judges. Two strikes. He gave up at this point. I was glad I had bummed him out. The guy was weirdly arrogant and annoying. And just plain yuck.

Cassie reckons it was my argyle blanket that put his psychic powers off. Made me look preppy.

After that guy finally left (with the parting comment that 'You should never lend your chainsaw or your girlfriend to a mate - because they'll both come back f***ed') it was just us and the Wellington guy, who by comparison seemed quite sane.

He had in the meantime left and come back with more Harvest cider (all class). He admitted that he'd driven to the super market on his bike. Drunk driving - sexy. He said he'd scored some pot and offered us some. We declined. He said that he knew where a great hot pool was that we could go to on Spa Road. We declined.

Because I was polite (and really because we had nowhere else to go because of the disco going on below our sleeping beds) he seemed to think we liked him. When he found out Cass was married he actually said, 'Well, no use sitting here then' and moved across to sit beside me. Eventually he asked me out to dinner once we were back in Wellington. I made some kind of uncommital noise and changed the subject.

When he could tell we were ready to leave because it was so cold outside we had no feeling left in our lower limbs, he bravely asked for my number.

I gave it to him. Not because I liked him at all. I didn't. I'm just really rubbish at turning people down in those situations. And I even gave him the right number, because I hate lying. I won't actually go on a date with him though. I can be crueler when it's not to his face! But the guy was an unemployed pot-head who drives drunk..... he surely doesn't think those are selling points to a private school girl like myself......

The next morning, after two of our room mates got up at the crack of dawn and woke us up too... I leaned down to Cassie's bed and whispered, 'Let's get the hell out of Dodge - before the crazy people wake up and find us again....' and we high tailed it out of there.

Cauliflower.

So I'm a bridesmaid on Thursday. It's a much maligned job really. At no other time in my grown-up life do I have to wear something chosen for me by somebody else. And at no other time in my grown-up life do I have to walk unshielded in front of so many people who are blatantly judging my outfit. It's not fair!

After trying on the dress in front of the bride's mother (the bride having sent it over from England) and gotten a response of, 'Well - it fits,' I had not worn the dress in front of anyone else. It's... how do you say.... 'ill fitting'. Cassie describes it as a muffin-top dress. It's all puffy at the top, then clingy at the bottom. The opposite way around to what I usually wear.

Today I pulled it out to show my step-mother. She immediately said, 'It's hideous!' based on its shiny grey mass of folds. I'd tried to soften the blow and said, 'Well, it could be a nice dress, just not on me...' but she'd insisted the dress was hideous. I then said, 'Wait til you see it on! It gets worse!'

So I came out with the dress on and she said, 'Oh, you poor thing!' and laughed. It's that bad. She said I'd look like a giant shiny cauliflower in the photos.

We stood pulling and tucking at bits of the fabric (which is too tight on my thighs but too loose everywhere else). I pulled a handful of fabric tight at the back of my waist... and Lynne said, 'Uh huh! That's what's wrong!' Her theory was that if we did a pin tuck at the back, then the front bit sat up a bit like it's supposed to.

So she got out the needle and thread and put a few stitches in the back. It looked somewhat better. Still not great, but much better. And the newly created pleat at the back took a little attention off my massive silver buttocks.

She lent me her hard-core granny undies (the kind that go from your knees to your tummy button). They improved things a bit too. I figure my chances of scoring whilst wearing this dress are slim to none, so nana-undies aren't a problem.

But we were still laughing at how bad I looked even after our alterations.

I'm sure my hair will look nice. Or maybe I'll go for a beehive hairdo just to pull people's eye upwards....... I look forward to hearing the euphemisms people come up with to try and make me feel better about how I look in it...

Wish me luck!

At least my back is less sore than it was - I think I can walk upright anyhow (the granny undies help - they act a little like a back brace).

It's funny though really. The only three things a bridesmaid really has to do are turn up, look good in the dress and walk elegantly down the aisle. One out of three ain't bad.

A Love Affair

After months of searching I may have finally found satisfaction.

Other people may pass it over as nothing special, but it is my New Favourite. I smile a secret smile right now just picturing it hanging up in my room, wedged carfefully between my scratchy-purple dress and my appley-cotton sundress.

I was actually in Miss Wong looking for a belt. I found new stock on their $100-and-less sale display, which further lured me in. Then I got sucked into the non-sale area of the shop. Sneaky of them. They put all the red clothes together on a rack at the back, like a flittery toreodor's cape in a bull-fight.

It was red. The perfect shade of red. Not quite cherry and not quite orange. The shade Marilyn Monroe wore on her lips. Red-red. My favourite colour in the box.

I touched it. It was shiny (but not satin shiny, polyester shiny and machine-washable) and silky to touch. A muted crushed, nicely draping kinda shiny. It was nipped in at the waist and came just above the knee (a respectable length while still being 'now' and 'hip'). It had a demure rounded scoop neck that showed decolletage, but not cleavage, and short sleeves that were slightly ruched, coming out from the waist like mini bat-wings. It was essentially loose feeling, but accentuated the right bits on me.

I added to my pile of try-ons, just to see what it would look like on. Not intending to really buy it. Just curious. How naive.

It had seduced me but I thought I could still 'just cuddle' without having to go all the way.

Then I tried it on. It slid on perfectly. I didn't even have to suck anything in or adjust any bra straps or imagine how much better it would look with a little layering or a belt. It was perfect just as it was.

It said, 'This is Kate. Kate is red. Red is sexy. This is the dress to wear on a date. You need to go on a date.'

So I bought it.

I didn't need it. I bought two dresses that were actually on sale last week, both of which I like. But they are imperfect. They need accessories and pinching in and adjusting and leggings and belts. They are needy dresses.

This dress makes me happy. It doesn't need anything else. I could wear it with no accessories at all. It is whole.

I don't know where I will actually wear it. I don't really do cocktails and night-life anymore. Everybody else has mortages. I could wear a cardie and flats and smuggle it into work or a casual dinner in town. I don't really want to taint it with ordinary experiences though. It is not meant to be constrained in the domestic sphere. It is a femme fatale dress . It wants freedom and excitement and venetian blinds.

It might be that nobody else likes my dress. They might think it's too plain or too something else. They may not even notice it. But I'll know they're wrong.

I think the best kind of dating is when you like the person you're with and you don't care what anyone else thinks. You like it if nobody else thinks they're hot - less competition for you. Their loss. At least he's with someone who appreciates him.

And so it is with my dress. My Perfect Dress.





For now.

Next season is another story.

(I must confess I have an almost addictive obsession for buying dresses at the moment - I should do some kind of photo montage of all the dresses I've bought since about last November. It's scary. It probably needs to stop - and having found The Perfect Dress I can now end my epic search and perhaps move on to shoes. My feet have been sorely neglected.)

Glorious Lunch

This year I have started sneaking out for lunch more often.

The Exit - Furitve Glances and Palmed Wallets

There is something magical about driving out of the school gates and getting jealous and suspicious glances from your colleague on gate duty. And it really is sneaking. While we're 'allowed' to leave school grounds, there are always social politics about who to invite and how many people can fit in the car. For quick and efficient get-aways only small groups work - I'd say 2-4 people is ideal. Any more and you faff around waiting for each other too long, and you inevitably lose somebody on the way to the car or somebody forgets their wallet and has to run back up. Any more and you can't actually bitch about what's gone wrong that morning for fear of offending somebody.

The Unlucky Ones - Those Left Behind

Once outside the gates there is a freedom you just can't feel when you sit cooped up in the staffroom for lunch. Sitting up there you have to wait in line for the toaster, squeeze past other people to get to the fridge/drawer/cupboard in a kind of awkward waltz that ensues in a space too small for the 60 people who use it.

Then while you sit eating your lunch, glancing over whatever section of the Dom Post you can find on the table, you have to surive the virutal gauntlet of colleagues walking through who might want a 'quick word' about a student or to remind you about some piece of admin you haven't done and the students who ask to see you (who wait at the other end of a maze of corridors, which you have to wearily navigate before you can find out whether or not they were worth interrupting your cup of tea for).

Teachers do not see the lunch hour as a sacred time of eating and socialising. They see it as an opportunity to find people they need stuff from. If they're teaching all day, this is the only time they have for such things. They're opportunists.

Anyhow.

Back to my escaping.

Coffee - The Price of Ambience

This year there are various breakaway groups of us who go out for lunch. These may have always existed (I'm sure they have) but I have always balked at the idea. In the past I would have considered it some kind of mission impossible to leave the grounds, get a park, have lunch and get back before the bell. Thus I would always diligently say, 'No thanks' when asked.

But this year I'm all for it.

Regular haunts include Deluxe and Salvation, both of which have excellent coffee, nice food and quick service. Then for something different there's the Brookly Bakery or Mojo's. For a takeaway treat there's Moore Wilson's (and I've become addicted to their flavoured broad bean snacks).

I have managed to add in trips to favourite shops into my lunch time jaunts. I can easily pop into Miss Wong or Magnolia if I'm at that end of town. There's something delicious about coming back to work with new stuff.

Home - The Bastion of Domesticity

Yesterday I even managed to come home for lunch. It's strange how coming home on a sunny day made me want to do chores I would usually avoid. I hung out my washing, emptied the dish-washer, tidied my room a little. My theory is that in the morning I'm in a rush and in the evening I'm tired, so neither of them is any good for chores. Then the weekend comes and there are much better things to do, or everything has built up so much that it's daunting. Lunch time chores are the ultimate solution!

Then I made my first sandwich of the year. I sat and watched 15 minutes of Dr Phil while I ate it. Bliss! Then I MySkyed the Oscars and some other TV shows I didn't want to miss that day.

Lunch rules.

(Then there are still the days where I barely have time to eat a few crackers because I had to stay behind in class talking to kids, then there was an urgent email to respond to, then there was photo-copying to do for my afternoon classes.)

Having raved about lunch, it's only fair to mention that I also love breakfast. Cereal rules.

Super Powers

I was using MSN Messenger the other day, and I remembered that I am 'invisible' to some people on there.

And I thought, 'Hmph - looks like I've achieved that childhood dream.'

Then I got to thinking, what other super power did I want to have? Maybe the ability to fly. Well, GoogleEarth has kinda covered that fantasy too with its birds-eye shots.

More-so with the desire to be invisible, the internet really has hooked into that fascination society has. There is a delectable array of ways in which you can be nosy and voyeuristic. A massive amount of time is spent observing things, but without being a part of them. We can find out the intimate details of people's lives, without ever having to look them in the eye. We can flip through their photo albums, watch videos of them, read their thoughs, all without them consciously knowing we're there and doing it.

That anonymity and invisibility is a big part of what I like about the internet. I can choose when people see me, I can choose to tip-toe through un-noticed. I can find out all about someone else without them knowing anything about me. They can't hide.

Of course, I leave my electronic footprints and fingerprints, just like a real invisible person might. But it's still pretty neat.

I'm going to think more on what other traditional super powers the internet is accessing for me.

A Brush with Fame - OMG!

Last week my flatmate Geoff told me he had some geek conference to go to. Webstock.

I mocked him.

He told me to go check out the website.

I mocked him some more. I looked at the guest speakers and pointed out what kind of geeky each one was.

Then I saw him....

OMG!1!!

Rives.

My favourite performance poet (ok - to be fair, the only performance poet I know of really - but I am loyal) ever. A guy I came across on the Ted site ages ago and posted about how cool he was. I heart him much.

I told Geoff he had to go see him and that this was a man I would marry. He's good looking, entertaining, talented and knows about Shakespeare. And is romantic (according to his kite poem, anyhow).

Geoff watched some of his videos on Youtube and Ted and agreed he was pretty cool. Then he mocked me for liking a guest speaker at his geek fest. Turns out the emcee of the night was Russell Brown, the host of Media7, who I also like (but I haven't told Geoff that).

Geoff ended up seeing him perform at Webstock and posted a comment on my facebook wall to make me jealous. I was in awe.

Then afterwards... he talked to him for half an hour! I was in more awe. At first he made me believe he'd told Rives I wanted to marry him (which at first horrified me, but then I was coming to terms with it and liked the idea - I was going to use it as an hilarious anecdote next time I showed a class one of his performances).

This was untrue. But he did tell Rives I was a 'huge fan'. So Rives gave him a collector's edition badge with his face on it to give to me. A present! To me! From Rives!

And he told Geoff (who has now started a bromance with him and is trying to become his NZ agent) that he was looking for gigs for the few weeks he was here, but had nothing lined up yet. Geoff is looking for opportunities and open mic nights.

Geoff even had the balls to tell him that he preferred the version of the poem he performed that he'd seen on youtube to the live version of the day. What a critic. As if he'd heard of him more than 48 hours before the event. Not a true fan, not like me.

I may yet see Rives live!

Geoff is my hero.

So is Rives.

I love my badge.

I'm trying to think who else I would like to come visit Wellington and give me a badge. Right now I'm drawing a blank. None of my famous crushes are as cool as Rives.

Maybe the guy who plays Sheldon. But he's prbably not as cool in real life.




* * *
I have just wasted a lot of time clicking on all my links and favourited sites.... I have decided that this act is called 'clinking around'.

Every night when I go home from work (ok - so I'm a teacher, sometimes it's afternoon still) I exit Mt Vic and head towards the tunnel.

At the bottom of Mt Vic you have to give way to Basin traffic and wait til someone lets you in.

And every night, almost immediately, somebody leaves a gap for me and motions me forward.

It restores my faith in humanity every day. Sometimes I really need that.

* * *

I like how the Netherlands wear orange as their national colour. It's neat. I wish we had a more predominant national colour.

* * *

Ice skating is awesome. It's surprising how often the skaters fall, even at the top level. I've been watching, and it's really rare for anyone to have a completely perfect run. I love the triple lutz.

* * *

I am embracing my niche at school - I am the champion of the quirky kids and kids on the spectrum. It's official.

I have in the last day had
- the head girl email me her idea about writing a school rap (it's quirkly cool - the second line has a taunt that we make other schools 'fidgety' - buuurn! Yeah Upper Hutt, we're talking about you!)
- had a girl with Asperger's approach me to find out who she could ask about doing a presentation to the school on International Autism Day (I have never even taught the child and yet she gave me a present for Christmas last year)

I love it.

SPRINKLES!

Why waste time making an icecream when you can just eat the sprinkles right from the lid? Clever kid! Kingi is very proud of himself.

* * *

Holy crap. Let the bridesmaid dress diet begin.

My friend sent over a bridesmaid dress from the UK and I tried it on today.

Were I svelte, the dress would be stunning.

I have about six weeks to get svelterer and do justice to a satin dress.

The generous portion of desert I had and the bag of chippies I followed it up with are sitting heavily in my tummy (which is protruding island-like out of my shiny silver dress).

If I fail in that mission, I will at least contribute valuably to the wedding party by making the bride look even more petite and gorgeous by comparison. My job will be done.

The photographer will just have to delicately ask the groomsmen to obscure my rolly bits in the photos. I will be this little head peeking out from the back. Or maybe I can get a really big bunch of flowers to hold in front of myself.

* * *

I have found an online radio station that must be run by people of my generation and ilk. Roo Radio.

* * *

I emerged victorious from the scuffle of Risk. The first game hardly counted, because I was powerless to do anything against the might of Kirsten on the other side of the board. I seemed to be positioned right in the middle of Richard and Sam, both trying to progress through the centre of me.

* * *

My wisdom tooth has been hurting. Might have to be extracted.

* * *

A student teacher saw someone giving out stickers to a class and said later, 'Is that age appropriate?' Hah. Amateur.

* * *

I have had two very good cheesecakes in the last couple of weeks. One from the South African food stall at the Saturday art market. One from the German bakery in Kilbirnie.

* * *

There have been a couple of good personell changes at work. It's got a good vibe for me at the moment. Have been out for coffee several times - in the middle of the day. Indulgent!

* * *

I have not worn anything but dresses and skirts to work so far.

* * *

I didn't know Canada was famous for its fiddle playing.

* * *

I decluttered my room slightly. I have a bookshelf in my boot ready to give to Cassie.

* * *

I am trying to brainwash my students that James Cameron is rubbish. They're not caving in though.

* * *

I'm going to have takeaways. Haven't decided what kind. Should do that now.

When the moon hits your eye

Rich and I went on a very romantic stroll around the waterfront on Saturday night, and it left me feeling much amore for Wellington. Whoever came up with the 'You can't beat Wellington (on a good day)' slogan was so right. Sounds like a back-handed compliment, but we Wellingtonians are a hardy bunch and the bitter makes the sweet oh-so-much-sweeter. We are a city of contrasts, a city of surprise and change.

The song 'Four Seasons in One Day' seems to capture our fair city's essence, or perhaps the Shakespeare quote about Cleopatra's wonderful and 'infinite variety'. The predictable is not for us. Auckland can take its constantly good weather. How dull! How complacent you would become! If not the weather, what you find to complain about together?

So, with the gentle reverberating of the ACDC concert dancing over the harbour, and the gentle chaffing of my new jandals between my toes, we walked along enjoying the warm stillness of the night.

It was the fifth day of sun in a row. Glorious!

And today it's raining. Ah. What a much needed reprieve from the passionate throes of the summery week. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Take-Away Heaven

Hataitai now has a Japanese take-out shop. My world is complete. Teriyaki chicken bento box is $12.90. I might try the ginger chicken udon next.

I love a meal with lots of bits and pieces and even the little salads taste yummy. And they have free green tea for you to drink while you wait.

I love that my four year old neice admits when she's feeling shy. I wish I could still do that - but as a grown-up you have to fake it.

I was at a wedding yesterday where I didn't know many people well, and I'm not good at chit-chat at the best of times. I could understand my neice's sentiment. Early on she hid behind a couch in the house and and her nana found her there quietly crying to herself because nobody would play with her and she was feeling shy around the dozens of people.

Aww.

Aunty Kate looked after her for a bit after that, my little kindred spirit. She sat on my knee during the ceremony.

I'm stuck between generations in that family. My step-mother's kids are all late thirties early forties, with growing up kids. And the next generation are early 20s and below. I sat with the 20-somethings at dinner, and a few other stragglers joined us. Luckily I was sat next to a guy who reminds me of Richard and he was easy to talk to.

I have another wedding coming up where I suspect I'll end up feeling 'shy' as well. Hope there's a couch for me to hide behind.