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.