Christmas, chocolate, women, band, pants...

...21 year old wine, more chocolate, a ham the size of your head, books... there have been alot, and I mean ALOT of things that have happened since the last time I got off, or onto my, as the case my indeed be, lazy ass and posted. Christmas was a big one. After many many months of a liquid diet I have put more food inside me than the Pope has the Holy-ies. And the Meat. So much meat. So many different varieties of meat. SO MUCH MEAT!!!
SO I ahve had a very good Christmas, what with the gorging and whatnot. I also, just yesterday, drank my 21 year old bottle of wine. It was Red Wine and Red Wine which is old is a very interesting thing. You cannot, for example, drink it straight out of the bottle. Not only is it one of those social foo-pah things (i can barely spell in english, you want me to learn to spell in other languages too?) but also it tastes like, and in this instance smells like, poo. Now dont get me wrong, I a mquite partial to poo, because it is funny, but even I expect my $6 wine to have some sort of palatable flavour to it. If it doesn't I still drink it anyway, because its alcohol, but that is beside the point. No, if your red wine is even more than 5 years old, you should decanter it, which is pour it into a big flat bottomed jug thing so the air gets into it. Taste a bit so you can tell it hasn't gone off (it will tase kinda like leaves and cork if it has. Really musty.) and then keep on tasting it at 15min intervals. It took my wine 45minutes to stop tasting like poo and start tasting like the kind of Heaven that wakes you up with drool on your pillow. Damn it was good.
Anyway, enough about my Wine.
Next on the agenda is my Band, The Crazy. We now have a website! Its on Myspace! Yes, I know, but I blog all the time, how much further can I fall?
Don't awnser that.
Anyway, if you feel like it, and you do, you should go to www.myspace.com/thecrazy.nz and watch the movie clip of me dancing with tongs. Soon we should have some recordings of our actual music up, which will be nice, wont it?
In other news, I got a pay rise at work. Huzzah! I now get paid $12 instead of $10.50. AIR THRUST! Thats more wine for me, and less..ummm...
But now onto the main interesting part of my life that has been happening since I last posted. This is so momentus that I might even have to break it into it's own seperate paragraph.

The thing that has been happening to me is...

Duh duh duh duh duhDUH duhduhduhDUHDUHDUHdee dah dah duh dah dee DEE dah deh duh dah DUH DEE DAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

Pants.
And especially how my pants react when in the presence of a certain woman.
Of course, in the age old tradition of Highlyflannable, I will not mention her by her true name, and so shall call her Charlie.
Well, myself and Charlie have not known each other for very long, but we have hung out together a couple of times, and a little while ago I invited her to a party. We drank copious amounts of wine, and walked home together. I asked if we could hug. I didn't think it was the best pick up ling in the world, but as the song says, we started making out, and she took off my pants and:
"No"
"What?" says I. I had been enjoying myself for the last few moments. Alot. This one word was very much the proverbial bucket of ice cold water.
"You don't want to get involved with me. I'll mess you up"
Now, as any regular reader of my life knows, I have been messed up before. I've gotten through it. Sure, Im scarred and what not, but it has been a while since I have had any messing, good or bad, and so I really don't mind. I try to tell her this, but Charlie insists that it is for the greater good that we remain friends for we have to spend some amount of time together. Alright. Cool. Im fine with that. Put back on my pants and buckle up the effile tower (*sigh*, I wish, more like the leaning tower of some really small thing) and go to sleep.
In the morning deja vu. (How come I can spell THAT?). We make out. Pants hit a wall, I wasn't paying attention which one, and again, that single cold shower of a word.
Oh well. Worse things have happened, yes? Rang Charlie the day after just to make sure that everything was good between us. She said it was, and I was releived, cause I actually quite like her.
Then, at 2:30am the next morning I am awoken by the phone. It is Charlie.
"I just need to talk to someone. Talk. Not sex. Just need a friend. Not sex. You should come over."
So thats what I do. Because Im such a nice guy. And because I am a guy. anyway. In my experiance, "friends" do not fall asleap in each others arms and try to keep eachother in bed even though they have to go to class or fail another paper. Nothing of a pantsless nature occured, but damn, if I didn't have that class I would not have left that bed.
Because I am smitten with Charlie.
This is a new experiance.
Of course, since I and Satomi broke up (I can use her real name cause she is in RUSSIA, Japan not being far enough away, apparently) I have had crushes, but nothing like this. This feeling is something I have not had in a while. Your thoughts being interupted by feelings or remeberances, you touch the palm of your own hand and remeber hers... I tell you, this is the most annoying, confusing and ejoyable state I have been in in quite some time. Stupid juxtaposition. How am I supposed to be able to say how I feel.
Perhaps like this: This is going to be a major downer, and I mean a MAJOR downer if this dont work out right.
And it aint gonna be easy. Apparently, Charlie, who is one year my junior, doesn't want a relationship. I don't want a one night stand. I had a one night stand once. Its about as satisfying as masturbation, except after masturbation you dont have to go get a STI test. So might say our base interests conflict.
Apparently it would be easyer if I was a bastard.
CUE: "Nice Guy Finish Last" - Greenday, and the worlds smallest violin.
WHAT THE HELL? What do women think? What do I think? Where is the instruction manual? I just don't know what to do.
I'm just going to keep on trying, me thinks, either until Charlie relents or she becomes convinced that Im crazy and I hit the bottle again. Im betting on the latter, but sometimes you just have to try.

Speaking of Crazy, I went to the doctor person and told them about my twitch. They told me to try some things, but I dont think they are working. But then again, me parents havent noticed while I have been home even though I have been twitching, so perhaps its all im my head. Many things are.

Shizzle and Nizzle.

Two days ago I had another band gig. It went really well, thanks for asking. I earnt $10, which is pretty good for a band to earn. So now all I have to do is gig 40 times a week and I will be able to live as a professional band person thing. Yes. That'll happen.
Urgh, what is going on? I don't know. just spent 3 hours in a kitchen making samwhiches. lots and lots and lots of samwhiches. But it wasn't that bad, bascially because once you know how to make one samwhich, you know how to make them all. You don't have to think. You just stand there and sing your little samwhich making song which has one word and that word is stoat. It makes sense when you think about it.
Tonight I am going to a Barbeque. I like Barbeques. They have the meat. It's a pitty Wellington spring still looks like everywhere else's Autum. Its all grey and overcast ooutside, but I like it like that. Sun hurts my eyes and makes me sweat, flying things proporgate in the warm weather and fly into my face or eat of my tender flesh meats, leaving small dots that itch and annoy. My ideal world would be a world that is plauged by nuclear winter, and I would make a living as a penguin wrangler, traveling from ice flo to ice flo on my trusty pet Walrus Malcom, helping penguin farmers round up their stock ready to be processed. Tasty, tasty penguin burgers. Also, I would be given special powers from the nuclear fallout, and woould be able to make cheese at will. Unfortunately, the radiation would also have caused everyone to be lactose intolerant, so I cannot sell my cheese, but during the slow months at the penguin farms I would be able to use my abilities and become an assasin for the government, infultraiting the lairs of know criminals and causing them a slow death through cheese-poisened foodstuffs.
As you can tell, I have not much to talk about. My weekend is going to be filled with computer games and cheap wine as I sleep on a friends fold out couch. All will be scotsmen.

Fear my mighty Scottness. Fear it veriily.

Next time on Highlyflannable: His Story 1! Flan takes a break from yabbering on about his pathetic life and tells you about someone elses slightly less patchetic life. So tune in next time for the adventures of Calvin: Unemployed with a degree in Philosophy! Gripping stuff!

Gah! Blimey!

Ten days have passed since I last posted. Where does the time go? On 8 and a half hour shifts at the soul chrushing factory thinly fronted as a "Cafe". Well, realy, work isn't that bad, but if you are going to complain you might as well go the whole hog. It just isn't as entertaining if you say "Well, today was really just like every other day: Got up, worked, ate, drank, shat, peeed. Met noone entertaining. Went home and watched "Home and Away" before getting an early night.
See? I almost feel asleap just typing that.
So what really happened in my day was that I woke up in a gutter, went to my workplace, currently located inside the seventh circle of hell, ate, drank, shat and found it hurt when I peeed. Met astronaughts, the KKK and Micheal Jackson. Went home where I found that everything had been stolen except my TV, so I watched "Home and Away" before crawling into a barren corner of the living room to shiver the night away.
Ok, ok, bollocks aside. I have been basically doing the same things that I always do: Drinking, turning up to a class that wasn't there (Yes, I did it AGAIN. But I found out that the start date had actually been changed on me, so I am quite glad that it wasn't just my hole-y brain.), and of course, working. The reason why I am working so much is because I broke my 8 year old cell phone. I am so very gutted. That cell phone has been like an ugly, pocket sized friend that can only comunicate with beeps. So I am sad. It also happens at the worst time, near Christmas, when I am supposed to be buying useless and unwanted things for other people instead of desperately needed things for myself. But really, can you justify hanging out with your familly at christmas and saying "Hey, yeah, I would have bought you all Christmas pressies, but instead I bought this phone that takes shitty pictures so my friends can TXT me and tell me to come out on the booze."

It just doesn't seem to be in the tradition of the Christmas spirit happy. But damn, I really want a phone again. Think of all the hot georgous women trying to get in contact with me! Why would they only call now, when my cell phone is broken?

WHY???

Its far too early for this.

The dissapointing thing is, of course, that it is 3pm. I have only just managed to drag myself out of bed. And my legs are sore from all the running that I did yesterday. Because, after I had my run in the morning, I had to run to catch two seperate busses. I tell ya, running just simply is not healthy. But band practise went good, we put together a new song and we have a gig at the Valve on Wednesday week. Huzzah! God I am tired. Why? WHY I ASK YOU! No? No reply? Funny that. Really got to stop expecting an awnser.

I am making salmon avacado rice, with hollandnaise sauce. Huzzah!

My cat dreams of spatulas.

Well, yes. Went to Kumera. Danced like an idiot. Fell over and hit my head. Have a small bump there now. Had Kebab, went home. These are all things you just have to do sometimes. At somestage I broke my cell phone. Well, not completely broke- it still works in certain areas of town, like the libary, museum and church. Basically, anywhere when I would not like to be embarrased by the noise of TXT messages hitting my phone, that is where my phone will now decide to work. This is a bit of a bummer, because I am very attached to my cell, and have been for a good eight years now. It is a working relic, and my hanging onto it was something I did as a way of saying "up yours" to technology, the A-bomb, Indians and everything else that plauges us in this world where we are expected to keep pace with life, not the other way around.
Speaking of technology, I have my laptop back. I am o frisking happy. I have just been chilling to me beats for the last hour while checking up on websites and eating chicken avacado and tomato samwhiches, or CAT sammies for short. To be truthful I did have mayo, but I just couldn't put the "M" into the acronym without sounding retarded.
And that's how exciting my life is.
Well, this morning I did go for a run. This is because I slept in and since my phone wasn't working I couldn't txt the girl I was meeting for God-damn-this-is-early brunch and say I was late, so I ran. I haven't ran for a very long time. It actually felt better than I was expecting, but part of this was that my new shoes are like walking on clouds and I still wasn't completely sober. But "brunch" was good. I have Eggs Florintene, as discussed elsewhere in this site thing as my favourite breakfast ever.
Then I did stuff around the place. As you do.
In other news, I didn't get into my writing course for the summer trimester. Oh well, no biggie. Teach me for being so over confident. Karma, thats who. Be mean or up yourself, and Karma says "Hey, look over there!" then giggles uncontrolably when you don't look because you've heard tha one before and you are much too smart to fall for such a trick and you are just about to tell Karma this but you cannot because Karma has just kicked you in the balls. Yes, the ways of Karma are strange and unknowable, but it's nice to know there is something up there with the sense of humor of an eight year old looking over everything.
Anyhoo. Like I say, no biggie. with this change of events, I may simply wait until first trimester next year to finish off my degree rather than stress and stuff the summer full of papers.

Not much else to report. I had better get my game face on and get ready for band practice.

Going to the Kumera...

...Gona dance like an idiot. Well, I don't know weather I actually will end up at the Kumera tonight, but it's what my horoscope said, and those things are always right. ALWAYS. Yes, it's a little known fact that God has decided our destinies via the simple fact of which month we were born in, with slight variances depending on you chinese zodiac animal. So, all you librians of the year 1985, I shall see you tonight, hyped out on red-bull vodaks and singing along to Bon Jovi.
Well, to be completely honest, my horoscope didn't say The Big Kumera specifically, it just said "A tradgic Bar." And we all know what that means.
Speaking of tragedy, I slept in until 11:30am today. Some of you might not be able to see the corrolation between tradgedy and me sleeping, but that is because you are gumby. No, what is really a tragedy is that I was fully planning on doing that for pretty much the rest of the week, but unbeknownst to me, the whole world has suddenly decided that since I have one whole week of nothing planned it would try and put as many demands as possible upon me, especially in the morning. So tomorrow I have a brunch wit a girl, although "brunch" is pusing it a little, as I think that 8:30am is too early for fricken breakfast. Then I go to work, probably to wash dishes, then to band practice. Other people also want me to have ballroom dancing lessons, and other people are convinced that I am having secret love affairs.
I simply find it Ironic that I have been wanting to do all these things for ages, but the only week that I get when I can sleep past 7am is when everone else decides they want to do them too.

Oh well. It is a sunny day. The birds are singing, my clothes will be dry. And Scru bs is on tonight. Sweet, sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet Scrubs.

the brains are scrambled eggs.

Which is why they are so appealing to Zombies, I suppose. Why, in a empty libary full of unused computers, did some complete muck-tard money-tugger decide to sit next to me? Perhaps its egg time.
well, I am going insaner. I thought I had a counciling appointment today at 9am. Nope. It's at 1pm. I thought I had class today from 10 till 12. Nope. Its in a fucking fourtnight. This is as bad as the time I got the idea that the pips in Jam were fake. Where did I get this idea? Who knows. I don't even eat jam.
so now I have to decide what to do today. I have to go out to Woo-town (thats Newtown with a sarcastic "Woo") today to drop my laptop at some place so they can fix it and I in turn can get my fix of music and pron. I have band pactice, and at sime time I am going to need to poo. Yes, it doesn't get much more exciting than this. Blah. Fuzzy wuzzy was a bear and all that jazz. Seriously, what the hell am I going to do? I hate Woo-town. Everytime I go there I end up doing somthing downright stupid, and it smells funny, proabably because of all the bogans. Millions and millions of bogans. I wish black would go out of style sometime. Jesus died because noone wears anything with colours in it. dreary bastards. Put some colour back in the world, people! It doesn't hurt, I swear. It's the reason why 80's music videos were so damn cool.
And with that statment, you have all just realised I am simply finding a way of putting farts through the keybord. Too many eggs for me I think.

How far can you push a metaphor? Too far me thinks. Brains = Eggs = Farting? What the hell am I talking about?

And its winding a bloody gale outside. Fun.

Toasties are god.

As you may have been able to tell, last night I was drunk. In fact, I was so drunk I cannot remember posting that surprisingly cohenrant rant against the world.
The sad thing is, I would like to say it was the booze talking, but really, I agree with every word that I typed last night, especially the expletives. And yes, im still a little drunk now. And yes, I am going to get drunk again tonight. I plan to be drunk for the rest of my life. This is what happens when you come off the rails. Oh well.
So what has happened? Apart from the drunk, that is. Well, I have been stuffing what the you doing when they come around the germans. I was a t a park with the Germans. The best part in the world. It has flying foxes. In the dark, flying foxes are brilliant. They are the best thing in the world.

Oh well. Poo.

All is the under estimation but the era is bad.

Wow. Could I be any more drunk? Could I have been any more dunk for the last three days? I just dont care any more. Why d you care? some sort of damn stupid thing when you do stuf and the stuff that happenes all not good inconhensirable stuff damn shit. Whoo cares? IO do not anymore. Fuck all of everything. SWeee ya, my faithfull readers.

The eleventh commandment.

Don't go to the Big Kumera. Ever.
Honestly, that place must have more mass than Fat Simon, because everytime I get a bottle of wine in me I seem to unable to escape the place, much like how light cannot escape black holes and you cannot escape YOUR EVENTUAL DOOM. But yes, yesterday I had an exam, and then I went to my friends house, as I do on a wednesday, to drink and watch Scrubs, and when they went to bed I went looking vainly for a kebab. God knows how I missed the Kebab shops, becuase there are plenty in Cuba street, and God knows how I managed to find, and completely lose, the only kissing contest in town. Yep. apparently Wine+ All the red bull and vodka you can buy for $40 = Flan enters into some damn stupid competition in front of a lot of stupid drunk people stupidly stupid stupid. But oh well, I got to hook up with a chick, even if I was voted the worst. Then again, she voted a girl the best. I guess you just had to be there.

Do not go to town by yourself. It is a depressing, depressing experiance.
I weigh 79.4 kg and am 182cm tall. It's not every day you weigh and measure yourself. Oh, and my blood pressure might be 110. I don't know. But its good anyway. Hurrah! I forgot a long time ago how tall I am . Do you know how tall you are? When was the last time you looked at the back of your hand? When you wiggle it, do your veins roll over the tendons? Do I need more sleep?

Yes. Yes I do.

Time, it's on my side...

Where have i been for the past month? Well I have been shut your damn trap i dont have to explain myself! Ahem. Excuse me. While I have been away, I have been possesed by the demon Azazel, I have joined a cult of UFO worshippers, I have been anal probed twice, once by Aliens and once by the cult of UFO guys. I have eaten free pizza. I have been deep sea diving in the depths of the Atlantic and I found my virginity and sold it again to a bottle of rum to some pirates. Only one of these things is true. And it wasn't the anal probing. Either of them. I think.

This is why i keep this blog, or try to. Because my memory is so full of holes that I cannot actually remember what I have been doing over the last month, probably due to drunkeness, but I do remember that it was all very enjoyable. Now I have to get my life into some sort of semibalance, and thats just plain boring. Signing up for classes, deciding what im doing next year, getting my damn laptop fixed, paying my 'protection' money to the mob... I swear, one day I am going to wake up so sick of all the trivial little things I have to do that I will simply walk out my front door and aprentice myself to blanket man, and after I have learnt the secret of how to make meths drinkable, I shall rename myself Baxter the Second of France nee Banana Hammock, fashion a box into a mobile home powered by sweat and feces and travel around new zealand, writing things and preforming sexual favours to not too young women in return for grog. All will be peaceful and great untill I save up enough empty bottles to exchange for a plane ticket where upon I shall fly to America, where only after a week I shall be raped and shot, not nessicarially in that order, by genetically engeneered marsuipials from Australia over a misunderstanding, as they will only be able to speak Old Norse (don't ask me why, I didn't engineer those damn koalas), a language that I am understandably a little spase in.

See this is what happens when I don't post for a long time. I save up little bits of crazy inside a "magic box" inside my belly untill it is churning away, and then I vomit it forth onto this page. Aren't you glad?

In other news, I have oone more exam to go. I have already sat two, but this last one will be the hardest of all. Thats why I am watching scrubs tonight and drinking wine. This tactic has never failed me yet, and I continue to get good marks, so what the hey. After friday I shall drink some more, becuase you have to after an exam, and then I get a whole three days of holiday before my summer trimester starts. Oh so much fun. But on the plus side, I do get four day weekends every weekend.

One day soon I shall shave off my beard. That will be fun.

It IS almost over...

Today is the last day I am Twenty. I don't even get much of twenty tommorow. As lengend has it, I was birthed at 2 minutes past midnight, only just meaning that it is not my birthday today. But that's cool, because twelve is a cooler number than eleven. Twelve has a "w" AND a "v".
But this also means that soon I will be losing my innocence, if I hadn't already lost it while under the influence of god knows what to a shapley bush when I was fifteen. But still, another golden year will have past as my youth fades to become just a legend that I go on endlessly about with my false teeth out so noone can understand what the hell I am talking about.
"Back in my day, we had to wait two whole minutes for our noodels to be done!"
"Oh, come off it Grandpa!"
"No, I'm serious! And the minutes were longer in those days. We didn't have any of this metric-time bollocks, there were sixty minutes to an hour, and thats the way it should be. Where did they get the extra fourty minutes from, I ask ye? From Satan, thats who."
At this time my son will take the wiskey bottle from me and tell me to go home. No-one respects the elderly these days.
So yes, what the fuck am I rambling on about? Who knows. Who cares? I care. Looking over my previous posts, I can see that my life has been becomming steadilly more boring. This time last year I was unemployed, living in a cupboard that smelt like smelly damp things and scrounging enough money from my student loan to by bottles of wine and tins of chopped tomatoes. Now, one year later, I work in a cafe every week day for money, I sleep in a room on a real bed and I have cut down the amount that I drink and opted for a deit that does not consist soley of "whatever I can get from the food bank plus an onion."
Some people would call this progress, and congratulate me on getting stability, a clue and a life. I call it poo. Oh for those hazy days in which I wagged lectures and sat on our porch in the sun drinking cheap bubbly and playing poker. Woe on these days of stuff. So to make sure this wont happen again, I shall immortalise here a list of resolutions, and at the end of this next year I can check them off with satisfaction:
1) Live by myself. Gosh Darn Fuck I want to live by my self. no offence to all the people who want me to live with them, for I am a popular and well endowed man, but I just want to come hoome from my day of doing whatever the hell, dim the lights, put on some barry white and then walk around my house nakie. I am pretty sure noone else wants to partake in this.
2) Get some mode of transportation. To do this i firstly need to get my learners drivers licence, and then save enough money to buy a scooter. Both these things are at the moment made impossible by the fact that I am oh so lazy. This week I managed to save $40 from my last paycheck. It is the only money I have been able to save, ever. And where is it going? On booze tommorow. Oh yeah.
3)LIVE LIFE TO THE EXTREME! Well, for me extreme living will be finding a job in a cafe that allows me to make coffee all day which dosent interfere with my studies and gives me enough money to both pay the rent and get drunk on weekends. Boy, I aim high with my dreams!
4)Buy furniture, especially a double bed. I am sick of my stinky single bed, lack of (Holy shit, there is a panda looking at me) lack of coffee table and lack of couch. I want something to put my beer on. I want something to fall asleap on while watching late night soft-porn on sky one. And I want a big bed for asthetic value.

So there it is. In this comming year I aim to have more money, more material things, and more sweet sweet naked Flan time. It will be good, and of course, all adventures will be documented here on "Highlyflannable: Why the fuck are you reading this?"

Seriously. Why?

And you thought it was all over!

Yes indeedy, I am not dead faithful fans of this here page! No, I am meerly getting old. On thursday, I am going to turn 21, an age that warrants a might, mighty piss up. Previous resolutions aside, medication nonwithstanding, I am not entering into the next phase of my life (entitled "Adulthood: Why It Hates You") sober in any sense or form. If you think this is quite right, then come to B4 on thursday from 3pm onwards. Or if you think that my liver has had far too much sweet sweet alcohol, then you sould come along to try to prise the beer from my hands. You will fail, but you can try.

As far as my life in the intrem between when I last posted and now, life has been tiring, and I have been working much. I have written an essay. I have had coffee with people. I have done so many everyday and commonplace things that I will not bore you by relationg them here. And I have only been drunk once. But that was because it was after the Worst Day in Mine Or Anyone's Life, Including Job. I know it is quite a big claim to say that I had a worse day than the man who God the all powerful deliberately messed with, and perhaps I am overexagerating, but feel safe in the knowledge that it completely warranted the two bottles of wine.

Off to do things which include Milton's "Paradise Lost". It is long, but I have almost finished it...

It's all about the candy.

What candy? I have no candy. None. do you have candy? I would like some of your candy. Yes, life sometimes seems like that everlasting quest for candy, much like the quest for the holy grail, except sweeter. What the hell am I thaking about? You tell me. You "im-not-sharing-my-candy-with-you" BASTARD!
As you can see, everything is going well with me. Yesterday I received an essay mark back. I got what I expected: An A-, because although my essay was short a brief in both content and proof and only took me a couple of hours, I managed to sustain a nice metaphor thoroughout that complimented my argument. And after someone has read many an essay with poor gramma, punctuation and verbosity, something that is written in a half decient fashion automatically gets a high mark. Sad but true. There are three ways to get yourself a good mark: write a good essay, cover up your deficiencies with words like "cacophony" and "elucidate", or bribe those in power with candy. And as we have already established, I am far to lazy for the first option and too candy-less for the second.
Do I have anything else to report? I think not. Soon I am going to find out is a certain thing I reciently did will either work or just end up in a burning wreck of molten crap. This thing, which I will not divulge at the moment, may just result in candy. Or at least something sweet.

And I am all about the sugar. Cryptic, no?

Cold Turkey

PUT THOSE SPORKS AWAY! Yes, I know it has been almost a week since I have posted, but I have a good excuse: I am Lazy. Well, it sounded better in my head. But anyway, since of the complete lack of posting that has been happening, you are now to be treated to a super-turbo-alpha-xtreme-plus post of mammoth proportions! Are you ready for this?

Righty ho then. I suppose the most importaint thing that has been happening to me over the last week and a bit has been the fact that I have been going broiled chicken from the booze. I am going salted pork rind from my alcoholic habits because of the pills I am now consuming in the morning to make my brain better. The brain better drugs don't actually mean that I have to stop drinkingaltogether, but since I have a very poor record when it comes to trying to moderate myself, I thought it would be a better idea to just forgo ethanol completely and go stuffed doormouse. For any of you who have not gone wet donkey before, I tell ya there are a few things that happen when you try to ween yourself off an addictive substance. No doubt it is different for different people, but I had some major headaches, cravings, and the strange experiance that is waking up un-hungover, possibly hungunder or level-hung. Seriously. I had not been to work on a Thursday completely sober ever, I think, as Wednesday was my drink to get through the rest of the week day. It was interesting having a body that was completely functional. None of that crazy unable to focus, direct hands or stand without leaning on things. Nope, I was a completely functional human. In some ways it was good. In other ways, it was damn annoying. I don't know quite how to expain such a happening, but work is a lot more fun when you are not quite with it. You know, they say that one of the steps to getting rid of an addictive habit is admiting and accepting the fact that life on booze/coke/ground up M&M's will never be as fun as life sober. I quite fail to see how that helps, but it is very true. I mean, why else would anyone do such things? Cause it feels good, thats why.

What is the moral of that little story? Buggered if I know. But I feel quite good in life at the moment, and my liver and his close friends Mr. and Mrs. Kidney are having quite the "thank god he's stopped putting poison in us" party, complete with non-alcoholic beer and spinach samwhiches.

In other news, last night I had a gig. It was at my friends house, who also happens to be the lead guitarist/co-singer of the band. It was good. We packed that livingroom out. Seriously. Standing room only, people boogieing out, a whole lot of "borrowed" apms giving us the much needed vocal volume to get our lyrics heard enough that I saw one or two people mouthing along. Good times, good times indeed. Of course, I fucked up, my hand cramped up halfway through on of the new songs so I had to play like a damn retard and actually stopped at one point, and I munted up me strumming hand pretty nice. Blood all over the place. But really, I think I am going to be one of those pedantic people who are never completely happy with their performance. When I am on the global tour that we wil be on in 10 years time, no doubt I will come off stage after out 35 song set and beat myself up for not enuciating properly or something. But still, the kind of energy you have afterwards is amazing. I got out of there onto the open air balcony and was trembling and had a slight stich (some of our songs you just don't get a rest from. It didn't help that we had to shout pretty hard to get sound out of the bass amp we were using as a PA either) and even though it was pretty much just a happy little gig performed to our friends and aquaintences, I still had a very major high.

Alright then. In other other news, it is my Birthday in Twelve Days Time. I shall be turning Twenty One. Can't you just hear the Gongs of Mortality building up to a creshendo? Just like my 20th birthday, I feel like I am reaching the end of an era, and soon I shall be thrust out into the 9-5 work day, with a bank account that doesn't have an interest free overdraft. What am I going to do? I live in my overdraft. I haven't technically had any actual money for a year. It has all been borrowed from the bank. I am going to be sooo screwed when I finish studing at the end of next year. Not to mention all the stories that will be told at my 21st. Why did I pick this year to do so many stupidly drunken things? And my past isn't exactly bereft of material either. Oh well, que serra serra. As a quick end note, It is also my good friend Spasm's birthday today, but he is an ancient old man, so please send him your good wishes so he will remember his dentures and not choke on his tofu at the vegeterian BBQ he is attending by way of celebration of his steadilly ascending age. No wonder I worry about birthdays. I deal out far too much crap to other people.

And that is it. I should be getting back into the swing of things post wise now. In the comming weeks: Essay: 3000 words of tourture and Work: The slow distruction of my soul.

Sweating like a sex-addict in d-vice.

FOR WHAT NEED IS THERE FOR FISH TO SING, WHEN I CAN ROAR AND BELLOW?

Going to the doctors soon to get my head figured out.

Panadol is the world's greatest invention.

I have just finished reading the book for which I have an essay due tommorow: Kate Atkinson's Behind the Scenes at the Museum. Notice the way I used Italics to reference a book? That is because I am an english dweeb. Soon I will start the essay, where I shall be discussing the significance of the books title to the content. I will not finish it tonight, but even though it is late and I have work tomorow morning, I feel the need to start it now, while it is fresh in my mind. Besides, tonight is not a good night for sleeping. The air is restless with helicopters, dogs and my Phantom Clock (there are no batteries in it, but I hear it ticking often). Anyway, I have four hours to do this essay after I finish work tomorrow, which is more than enough time for a 1500 word essay of this level.
This weekend, thanks to a deposit of suplus monies from the flat account, I have been able to drink and eat, and most importaintly, buy panadol. I never used to rely on panadol for hangover cures, perferring rather to be stoic in the fact that the headaches and woozyness was somthing self inflicted and so I should roll with it, and I have even had, on occasion, hangovers that have been more enjoyable than the drinking it took to get them, but you cannot be productive during a hangover, ejoyable or not. So enter panadol, which gets rid of most of the symptoms of hangovers, and allows me to at least read books for classes. Wheather this discovery shall breed within me a new found desire to further my alcoholism by taking away any deterant or shall simply help me to become a better functioning member of society (all those mornings at work I have spent hungover! why didn't I pop a pill?) remains to be seen.
As you might be able to tell from reading this I am in a much better mood than I have been lately. I am on the up cycle of my by now sickenly familiar depression cycle, and so know that payment shall be extracted later, probably at about 9am tommorow. As you also might have noticed, I have been doing alot of this new-age emotional namby-pamby mental musing crap, but as I have noticed, it is actually uite helpful for me to be able to look back on my life in this form to see what has happened, becuase I simply cannot keep all that memory inside my sive-like head. So what I am saying, in essance, is that you just have to deal with it. HAH!

In other news, Behind the Scenes at the Museum is actually really quite good. It pretty much gets added to my own personal hall of book fame along with On The Road, Dear Miffy, and anything by Murakami or Kafka. So read it.

To yesterday and beyond! A great pile of Fish? Yes.

I am not feeling good.
Looking back in my blog, I can see that I also wasn't feeling good at this time last year. A seasonal thing, perhaps? No. Last year I had a reason for not feeling good. Me and my long distance girlfriend/ fiancee were having problems, prolems that resulted in our breaking up. Two years ago, I was engaged. A year later I became single. This year, I have been single for twelve months. Even so, this should not be a reason why my soul feels like it has been split in half. Honestly, I was feeling so bad today I almost threw up. Well, I have made an appointment with a doctor for Wednesday. Perhaps we can nip this in the but. Heres hoping.
People who read this have invited me around to thier houses at times during this weekend in an effort to cheer me up. People want me to live with them. Unfortunately, It looks like I might not be able to do any of these things. This week I have to read a novel. An actual novel, and then write an actual essay on it. The essay won't take long, as it is only a 200level, 1500 word essay, and so I will be able to do the actual writing in about four hours. The reading of the novel, however, is goig to take me at least two nights. And as for living with anyone, I simply want my own place next year. I don't care about the price. I don't care that I might go stir-crazy. I need to do this alone, to see if I can at all. Adn besides, I am sick now of all that organisation/ cleaning/ rent splitting hassels that happen when you live with someone else. I want to do it alone.
Work today was poo. So much poo. Nothing good there. I just hung around spacey like, as co-workers conversations washed around me like so much unwanted citris-cola, making me sticky and lime-smelling. Not very plesant, as you can imagine.
Tonight I plan to go home, get into be and read untill I fall asleap. But what wil probably happen is that I will play guitar for some indetremined portion of time before I open my book. Guitar is good for me. Good for my soul. I shall rign some people so as I can plan my weekend, eat some toast, and then collapse into bed. Smelly bed. Oh well.

I have ten dollars. $6.50 of that has to go to a friend who bought me a pizza. So I cannot even get myself a bottle of wine. Gahhhhhh...

URRGH! ARGUH! UH>> I DON"T KNOW!!!

I think the title of this post says it all. Bugger everything. Bugger it all to hell. Hell, where I hear, they are rather found of buggering. So it can get buggered some more.
Really, all sorts of crap is really annoying. Work. Studies. Uni. Other people. Thinking. Books. Money. Sleeping. Eating. Waking up in the morning. Walking. Women. Cooking. Carpets. Mess. Essays. ALL OF IT! But don't you worry. Although this might seem like a rather macarbe post, smoe things are going all right. Like... (insert title of post here!)
Oh, people are annoying. Especially at work.
Customer: "Hey how much does that cost?"
Me: "5.60. like it says on the sign."
C: Oh, ok. What sizes do you do?"
M: This size. Only one size, I'm afraid.
C: Oh. Then can I have a medium?
M: No. We only have this size. This size bowl. I fill up this bopwl with food.
C: Oh. Well how about I tell you when to stop? I am not that hungry.
M: Alright. *I start filling the bowl*
C: Ok, that enough (The bowl, at this stage, is pretty much full.) How much will that cost?
M: 5.60. Like it says on the sign. like I told you. Like the sign is also telling you. It costs 5.60."
The only reason I wasn't scolding/swearing at/eating the customers face off was because I hear you can get fired for that sort of thing, and I need my monies.
Or how about this delightful fellow?:
C: Hey, how long away is that burger that I ordered like two minutes ago because I am really hungry and I ordered a burger and like it isn't here yet and like you do fast food and I have class and stuff and you know I paid for my burger so you know it should like be given to me.
M: Yes. Your burger isn't here. Because we start cooking after you order. Thats what "Made to order" means. And since it is a chicken burger, I suggest you let us cook it, unless you like that really scrumptious taste of selmonella. As for you class, you should have thought about that before you ordered a meal 2 minutes before it started. Because, while it is true we are a fast food restruant, we are not a MAGICAL WE HAVE A MAGICAL FAIRY OUT BACK COOKING MAGICAL FOOD WITH HER MAGIC WAND MAGICAL food place.

As you can perhaps guess, I didn't actually say that. but I was this close. THIS FUCKING CLOSE!

Anyway. scrubs is on tonight. And since it is wednesday, that means I can drink my woes away. With alcohol. Sweet sweet anger numbing alcohol.

Word Salad

Well, this has been a doozy of a weekend.
Start off by getting off of work, and trying everything to get my hands on some money. Student services, the food bank, hocking off food bank items to people, extorsion, even, *shudder*, Studylink.
"Hey there, I am in a bit of trouble. I need some money so I can get some meat to go with this bag of flour the food bank gave me. I heard you sometimes gave out food vouchers in dire situations."
"Well," Says Mr Studylink, "Why don't you have any money?"
"I don't have any work over the break. I tried to budget for this, but I fell a little short."
"Well, show me your bank statement."
I hand my bank statement over.
"Well, if you knew you were going to be off work for two weeks, you really should have gotten yourself another part time job to make up for the shortfall."
"Yes. Because two week long jobs grow on trees. Anyway, I just need $20."
"Yes, well, as I see it, you haven't exhausted every avenue. You could have sold an organ for money. But since you really need the money, I suppose if you can get me your tennancy agreement, your birth certificate, a signed note from your employer stating that you had no work for a week (that note needs to be verified by a JP, by the way) and a negative STI test then we can probably give you the money."

I hate you, studylink. So what I did was I did not pay my rent. It's ok, our flat account is far and above what it needs to be and I can make up the deficit before our next load of rent goes out. But still, I shouldn't have to resort to such matters. Services that are supposed to help people should, in fact, help. At least some of the time. Studylink is just bitter because we no longer have to pay them intrest on our loans. Well, boo hoo. Studylink also doesn't have to survive on caned Tuna.

After that disaster, Iwent to my friends flat to welcome their new flatmate. We had a few drinks and ended up at a twenty-first. Not alot happend there, I had a couple of cheap drinks and then we went back home. The next day I went to my other friends house where I was shanghied inside a car bound to Shannon.
If you aren't familiar with Shannon, you need to know that it is the one street hub of the rural district of Horowhenua, a distric concerend, like most of rural NZ, with sheep and rugby. The plan was to go and stay at a hotel in Shannon, pretty much for the fuck of it, and drink at the local bar, wake up in the morning, have pies at the very nice cafe there and then go back to Wellington. Unfortunately, things didn't go quite as planned. When we asked the hotel for a couple of rooms the hotel person said "URGNAH?" and banged her head on the bar repeatedly. Other patrons of the bar looked at us suspiciously and we backed away slowly so as not to entice them into what was only one broken jandal away from becoming a ruck.

So we went to Palmeston North. If you are not fammiliar with Palmeston North, you need to know that it is almost impossible to leave once you get into the tangle of it's flat streets with no land marks and that it's slogan is "STUDENT CITY". The sign with this slogan on it has a crude drawing of a Penis on it. We saw nobody around, and I ended up asleap in a friends place on a lounge chair after a few rousing games of drinking Jenga. The next day we went back to Shannon, and ate all the pies. (I had three. Between the five of us we had a total of ten pies.) And then we went back to Wellington, glad to have survived our ordeal and exdeedingly happy to see hills, buildings of note and people of culture.

I have only just gotten home. It has been one of those weekends where I just don't get back to my own bed. I have just been to see M. Night Shialaman's movie "The Lady in the Water." MNS's movies always sit in that little gray area for me between "Crap" and "Pretty Good" without passing through any of the imediatory steps.

In other news, I am finding that I am kinda in that grey area with my life. Things are really getting me down sometimes, and other times things are really really good. (Bet you didn't see this comming! Emotional rant after all that? What a mammoth post! Well, I don't have much else to do.) Having just 'asided' that I have nothing else to do, I have far to much to do. At the end of this week I have and assignment due, ditto with the start of next week. I have work. I have libary books that have to be returned. I have sleeping to do. Where the fuck am I supposed to fit in any kind of musing on existance and hopefully positive step taking to make sure I don't fall back into a pit of depression/ anxiety / stress from which there is no getting out of without a large ladder? People don't like that in your essays about Pope! And I don't own a ladder! Borrowing other peoples ladders takes time and patience and interation skills which I often find I simply do not have. So that is in part what this blog is for: expressing my emotions through horribly extended metaphors. I know it doesn't actually do any good long term, but it sure as fuck makes me feel better right now.

And right now I am going to go do some writting. All the ladder finding and /or essay writing can happen tommorow.

Too much dancing, not enough sleep.

Amn I hate my friends.
I go to their house to dirink wine and watch Scrubs on a TV that isn't all gay and fuzzy, andwhat happens? They force me into town, possibly with some kind of mind control device, in my work uniform, as I had not been home to change, gave me red bull, which unleashes my beast, and turned me loose inside the Big Kumera.
Even when they went home they made me stay. I got home at 3:30am. I have had three hourse sleep. I, surprisingly, don't feel that bad. But I only had one bottle of wine.

So yes, the moral of the story is "Don't Trust Your Friends." Because they make you do things.

Well, that was unexpected...

http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,20349560-661,00.html
Yes, thats right, Steve Irwin, the Crocidile Hunter, is dead. Imagine that. A man builds up his reputation by wrestling crocodiles and dangerous snakes, dangerous animals that no sane peron would touch with a pole on fear of death, then gets killed by a sting-ray. How very, very unfortunate. A sting-ray, for fucks sake! Really makes you think, don't it? You, as a person, invincible in everyday life, God of your destiny, you feel good and healthy, and then WHAM! Outta left feild come the Reaper, bearing not the expected scythe, but a bag of rice, and chokes you with it.

Really, sometimes life is bloody strange.

In other news, there is a strange ticking noise in my room. Either my clock, which has been without a battery for the last half year suddenly started working under its own steam, or someone planted a bomb in my room while I was away. I am guessing the latter.

Oh, the horror!

Had work this morning. Had a tutorial. Both were not particulaly good. I guess I just have to get back into the swing of things.
I seem to have developed a twitch in my right eye.
Well, I got back an essay today, and I got an A for it, so I suppose that isn't too bad. But there is so much crap I have to do soon. And I just don't want to do it. I want to stay in bed. Forever. Damn this outside world and all the things that I have to do in it. Except band practice, which I have tommorow. I have been looking forward to that some good yes. I have been woprking on new material, and cannot wait until our next gig, whenever that might be.
But since I have to wait, I would rather be waiting in bed. Its warm, yet smelly, comfortable yet a mess. I keep on waking up at night thinking I am back home. But I am not. Soon I have to go flat hunting. AGAIN. I hate flat hunting. and I have to get a licence. And a scooter. And I have to save some money. And I have no money at the moment.

Whine whine moan bitch. Yep. Goddamn.

Going, going, gone .

In two hours I go back to Wellington. This holiday has been much too short, damn it! I haven't done nearly enough sleeping, eating, cartooning or reading for pleasure as I want t odo. Seriously, where do you fit it all in? So yes, I will arrive in our countries capital at around 9pm tonight, and the rest of this weekend will be devoted to preparing myself metally for the rigors of work and the second half of the trimester.
Preparing it with booze.
Becuase i haven't been drunk since I left Auckland. I have been detoxing this week. Now booze, no cigarettes, and let me tell you something, I am looking forward to putting some alcohol and nicotine, a cocktail i like to call 'alcotine', back into my system. i might even get some Roti Chennai.

But still. Work. Sigh.

Wooo!

Yes, I have not posted in a couple of days. Why? Because sometimes it is simply too much effort to get on here and type "Today I did Fuck All". Because that is what I have been doing.
Well, actually, yesterday I did have lunch with my Grandmother. I had one of those meat balls. You know the ones, they have sticky savory mince in the middle and crunchy bread crumbly stuff on the outside. You don't actually see them very often, but they are damn good. The yare also something I have only when Icome back to waipuk, so that makes them exta special. I haven't ever seen them in Wellington, Perhaps it is just a Hawkes Bay thing.
After my tasty meat ball, I went to collect sheep in my fathers truck. My father, after 30 years of cutting sheep and cattle open at the local freezing works decided that he had had enough, and now switches jobs more often than I switch underwear. I got to open gates. At least sheep don't complain about stuff. They don't want the extra special suite in the back of the stock truck. They don't wan't Soy Decaf Carob Moccachinos. Sheep are pretty easy to get along with.
In other news, Today is Thursday. on Saturday, I go back to wellington to continue with the frantic existance I lead there. I am not particularly looking forward to it. It is the second half of the second trimest of my third year of english studies, and right now I am thinking to myself "Hang on, I've done this shit before!" I still like reading. I still enjoy what is being said in lectures (when I am awake/ sober), but I am just so sick of assignments. My next group of assignments is in a fourtnight, and I know I am going to find it very difficult to muster any motivation for them. I have written too many essays. I can write essays with my eyes shut. Please, I wan't to do something other than write bloody essays.
I just made myself a Bacon, Tomatoe and Mayonase samwitch. There was no lettuce, so I have to improvise. It tasted good. But the smoke from the oven is still hanging around. I've opend all the windows, but there is no wind to take the smoke away .I wouldn't have this problem in Wellington.
My Grandparents are comming around for dinner tonight. We are having Chinese. I love Egg Foo Yong.

Egg Foo Yong. What will these crazy asians think of next?

If it tilt's it's not ideal.

Yes, I missed a day of posting. For all of you who read this, I give you this as a consolation prize: The Bird. And you can get free refils on that whenever you like.
Yes, I know, I stole that one. But if www.toothpastefordinner.com haddn't done it, I would have thought it up sooner or later. It was only a matter of time. In fact, you could almost say they stole it from me. Stole it with their funny joke time traveling computer. From me. And my god-like brilliance.
Can you tell I have too much time on my hands? I went outside for the first time in two days a little while ago, and that was just to bring the recycling bin inside. To make matters worse, I woke up at 7am this morning. I have read a whole novel today. Granted, it was only a trashy detective novel (we ain't so big on fiction in my parents house. You get four choices in book: Detective, Romance, Murder Mystery or Cycling.) but still, unless it is a book that I have been itching to get my hands on usually I make a book last three days. because when it comes down to it I am a lazy reader. My favorite reading position is horizontal. Perhaps this is why I have so much trouble with Lord Of The Rings: It makes my arms go numb with the effort of keeping it open. But as I say, this all changes if it is a book I have been waiting for. For a good book, I will put everything else on hold. I will read as soon as I get out of bed, while I make breakfast, as I am walking around and in bed late into the night. I have gone on 18hour reading binges to finish a good book. I don't even spend that much time on my school work.
Anway. On to the significance of this blogs title. Not only is it refering to a advertisment that has drilled it's way into my subconsiousness through endless hours of working with a radio turned up next to my ear, but it is also a referance to my pecker. I saw on the TV show "the perfect age" last night that it helps for a man to be able to touch his toes, because that means the base of the penis is flexable. I cannot touch my toes. I am glad. I don't want a stiffy that can be knocked over by a breeze. No. I want a stiffy I can hang towels off.
Future Girlfriend: "Flan, can you hand me a towel? I just got out of the shower but there are none in here" (Yes, my next Girlfriend will have to call me Flan. Especially in the bedroom."
Me: "Sure. Here's a towel. It's ON MY WANG!"
Zing!
I'll leave you to think about that.

In other news, I have a new set of Pajamas. they have the Paul frank Monkey on them.

Tiny, tiny hands.

I have a new cousin. Today I went with my parents to see my aunty who has just given birth to a baby boy, yet to be named. I discovered that babies are small. Really really small. So small, in fact, you cannot really beleive that you were once a baby. I mean, look at their hands! So small, with little mini fingernails. My hands are huge. Gigantic. And you know what they say about people with big hands. Yup. But anyway, I never thought of hands growning so much. Same as fingernails. I thought they were just there. Growing is a strange business.
The other strange thing about babies is how they affect people. Men, they come in, they look at the baby, that say something like "It's small", and then they retreat into the nearest corner, taking solace in talking about things like the weather and work. Women, on the other hand, will croon over the baby until it hiccups, and then use that hiccup as a pretext for picking up the tiny human: "Oh, look, he's crying!", and then spend the rest of the time going into details about the birthing process, and other things, like breast feeding.

I am a firm believer that there are things that Man was not meant to know. One of those things is birth. I am sorry to whoever is fated to marry me, but while you are doing the painfull pushing, I will proably be in the nearest toilet doing the retch and heave. But women seem to have no problem with talking about contractions and passing things the size of watermelons out of their vaginas. No. They could talk about it untill the cows come home.

I guess you just had to be there.

Holidays!

Yes, my real holidays start now. Sure, it has been almost a week since I finished work, but the time since then has been filled with many activities that have stopped me sleeping. The cheif of these being my trip to auckland to see my old time buddy, Spasm.
Now, I am not sure if I had ever been to Auckland before, and it is quite possible that I may have been an Auckland Virgin. The process of becomming a non-Auckland Virgin, is unfortunately, like having so much other man inside you, form behind. No, I do not like Auckland. It is big. In Wellington, you can get pretty much anywhere if you have a spare hour and a pair of legs, but if you wanted to walk across Auckland you had better take a three-seasons sleeping bag and a GPS system. Yes , there are things that simply do not make sense in Auckland. For example, there are seven Starbucks along Queen st. Eve nthe most feindish caffeen addict can go for 200m without shitty coffee from Starbucks. And the roads. We here in the rest of New Zealand pay for Auckland's roads. Auckland could at least have the decency to make use of them in a normal fashion eg: along the ground in grids not hanging in the air, making pretty patterns, or, in one case, vertical. No one needs vertical roads.
But, I did get to see boobies. Yes, Boobs on Bikes happened as we were walking down Queen St. I imagine that is what heaven is like, but with more beer samwhiches.
Anyway, after four days of travel, crowds and hilarity, I am now back in my sweet little hometown of Waipuk, whereeven the locals sometimes wake up and say to themselves: "Wow, this place still exists? I thought nothing ever happened here, and so Waipuk had been trapped in the past with other unwanted relics, such as spirograph."
Of course, no one actually says things like that in waipuk, because they are all stupid.
Well, tangenting aside, I am now able to sleep. Sleep for many many hours. And watch cartoons. My life for the next week will be a carefully balanced schedule between these two events. It is just a shame you cannot do both at once.


Or can you... "DUH DUH DAHHHH!"
Next time on Flan's blog:
Flan finds out you cannot combine cartoons and sleep. Except with Snoopy pajama's.

I unripe for english speak

Last night I down loaded old ICQ, and had an entertaing time going through the chat rooms on said site. Because sometimes I have nothing better to do. Anyway. I logged into a channel called "#English", bucause it said that that was where people who spoke english met to chat. Kinda lame, but it sure looked better than the "#GayMen", "#13yrOldsWhoShopAtSupree", "#FearOfCommunism" and "#HornyPediophiles(60yrs+)" channels. One of these channels is not one I just made up! Try and guess which one. Hint: It's not #GayMen.
Where was I? Oh yes. I entered into the chatroom, the english speaking chatroom I have you know, because of boredom, and was shocked at the number of illiterate asian girls who messaged me. Perhaps I have some kind of field around me. A Forigen Affairs field. More likely, they were poor women (or possibly men- I am not sure about one of them) who want to migrate to New Zealand by way of marrage.
Of course, there is only one thing to do in a situation like that: chat them up.

In many ways I am a sad, lonely man.

Today, however, has been a different story. I have tidied my room. I have done a load of washing. I am mostly packed for my trip to Auckland tommorow. The sun has bee shining, and since I hadn't returned my libary book yet, I decided to do so and afterwards grap a beer from 'the brewery' and enjoy it in the sun. Then I bought sushi, and tried to enjoy that in the sun, but it was poo. So then I had roti chennai, and it turned out to be the most satisfying roti I have ever had. Huge chunks of potatoe and chicken (still the 3:2 ratio, however. Getting a dish of roti with 3 peices of chicken in it is one of my life's goals) and an extra peice of roti bread. Damn, I haven't been soo full since the time I was hungover and ate two roti chennai's one after the other. SO today was a great day to spend $15 in three hours. Oh so satisfying.

I need a new wallet. But wallets are expensive. And I don't really want to buy something to put my money in and then find that all my money has gone because of it. It just doesn't make sense.

A lack of morning here.

Today is officially the first day of my holidays, and so I celebrated it in the traditional fashion: by not getting out of bed until the afternoon. A really, my day has not gotten any more exciting. I was supposed to go to the libary and return the doorstop that is "David Copperfield", still half unread, but I decided not to, on grounds of 'cannot be bothered. I have eaten nothing but taost today, taost being the easyest thing by far to prepare, and have successfully washed a load of washing for my trip away. I also did a bit of packing. Well, I put some DVD's in a bag. Talking of bags, I have made a startling discovery: Bag+Moisture+Leaving it in your closet for months= Mouldy bag. As a result, I am forced to take much of my colthing when I travel in Plastic bags from the mill. Luckilly, I have a great deal of those.
The only real thing of note I have done today, in fact, is watch "Some kind of Monster", the documentary about metallica's latest album. I am a big Metallica fan, but still, I have never really enjoyed the St. Anger album. Perhaps the fact that it is shit has something to do with it. Oh well. Anyways, the DVD was pretty good, all the behind the scenes action you can shake a stick at. A big stick too: the documentary is over 2 hours long.

Perhaps I might watch the "S&M" DVD I have. And I mean "S&M" as in Symphony and Metallica. Not anthing else. You sick bastards.

Over and out.

Done. I am finished. Finished work. For a long, long time. Well, two weeks. Two weeks of glorious I-don't-have-to-get-up-at-six-thirty-ness. It is going to be good. Oh so good.
But before I managed to leave today, that bloody cafe still managed to take a peice of my spirit. I thought it couldn't get any worst than scalding my stomach on the coffee machine (the mark froim which is still there), but it happened. I had finished, I was signed off, I was happy, I sluged on my trenchcoat, and was about to walk out the door when I smelt the tantalising aroma of mushroom soup. So I went over, and filled a cup with its creamy goodness. But, oh the humanity! A mushroom, I repeat, a bloody mushroom, fell out of the ladle and onto the hand which held my cup. It hurt like needles. Giant, bruning hot mushroom shaped needles. I actually sustained quite a bad burn from that fucking mushroom. How completly pathetic.

At least the Soup tased good. WHO GETS THE LAST LAUGH, HUH? You may have burnt my skin, mushroom, but now you are inside me, experiancing the cruel and lengthy death that is my digestive system. The gigantic fall through my ascophogas, the burning pain of the acid bath that is my stomach, and, finally, the unamaginable and stinky horrors that reside within my colon.

So, think twice before burning me, people. I will give you a one way trip to Bowel.

(Cue Cymbal crash.)

Really, really big.

You know what is bigger than my Wang? No, Flan, there is nothing that could ever be possibly bigger than your Wang. Well, thats what I thought, until I spent the last half hour on Google Maps trying to do some research for my writings. And you know what? America is bigger than my Wang. It is alot bigger, in fact. It is bloody huge. I have been trying to reasearch which suburbs are the poncy and which are not in Cleveland, but I think I have made one fatal miscalculation. Here, In wellington, a suburb can be the size of Aro Valley, wich is basically a road, or Higbury, which has four houses and a park. Not even close to the size of my Wang. In Cleaveland, however, suburbs are big. Really big. Size of Wellington big. I wouldn't know what to do with a Wang that big. Cleveland is too much Wang for any man.
So yeah, what the hell am I going to do, short of go there? Wikipedia is no bloody help, either. "Cleveland is populated by Gays" stated one article. This may be true, but it really doesn't help. Anyway. Now I am going to bed. Tommorow is the last day of work for two weeks, so I want to be good and rested for it. HAHAHA! Boy, I crack myself up.

Once more for good measure: WANG.

Pajamas

Today is a great day. I get to cross off one of the things on my "What to do before I die of stuff" list. Thing I have done on this list include absailing, whitewater kyacking, and eating a whole two liters of icecream in one night. Things yet to do include kicking a sparrow, going to japan, and filling a room full of balloons. But today, I did do this: I went to work in my pajamas. This has been a long standing dream of mine, as pajamas are both fashinable and comfortable. I have been to uni in my PJ's before, and I have been to uni dressed as a vampire. But I have never been to work in bed clothes before.
Half the fun is making excuses when people ask why I am in PJ's:
"It's laundry day"
"I live in newtown"
"I am expressing my sexuality"
"Chicks dig snoopy"
"I'm not wearing pajamas."
"I don't really work here, so no one can fire me."
"God told me to."
In other news... no, I have no other news. I am going to go to class, in my PJ's. Then I am going to go to thearter sports. In my Pajamas. Then I shall go home, to bed. I might get changed for that.

Really. Chicks do dig snoopy. Try it for yourselves!

Robots and cyborgs are different.

It be wednesday. Wednesday is good. it be my money day. This means that I have had a drink. And it means that scrubs is on tonight. I love scrubs. i cannot function without scrubs. Scrubs is my life, my love, my everything. Scrubs in my true north. I shall watch Scrubs tonight, then I shall go to sleep.
In other news, I have a lot of money. I will have $200 for my trip top auckland, where considerably less is needed. Today at work was fun, if by "fun" you mean "busy", "exhausting", and "ungodly". Yes. But the week is now more than half over. I have two days more of work, no assignments to do and soon I shall be supping wine with like minded folks in auckland, and then I shall go home for all the sleep I can stomach and all the free food which isn't interupted by people getting up too early. Wait a minute...
You know, I haven't been to auckland in living memory. of course, this isn't saying my as my living memory streches back about one and a half days, but even so, I haven't been to auckland in at least ten years, possibly even more. And I have only ever been once. Al I really remember is that there is alot of it. Lots of cars. lots of road and lots of stress. Should be interesting. Especially since the people I will be visiting live in the western parts of auckland, where crime is keept down only by the inherrant stupidity and lazyness of its inhabitants. and still crime is quite high. And black. And bogan. And they throw rocks at you if you wear funny hats. Basically, I am going to where they keep the people of a society who should be in jail but the cops are kept out because they are scared. Like I say, Interesting. Y9ou better appreciate this Spasm, you are the reason I am comming. nothing else wouold get me out of my smelly, lonely bed. I mean, I could be watching scrubs DVD's for two weeks.

Scrubs, Scrubs, Whereforout thou my Scrubs? (By the way, that line is the most commonly misunderstood in Shakespeare. It means "Why are you called Scrubs" not "Where is my Scrubs" of course, I use it here in the mangled sense, because otherwise that last comment makes little sense. Everyone knows the show is called "Scrubs" because that is the name for the two-peice plastic-y suits everyone wears in a hospital. At least it isn't as bad as that new "Miami Vice" trailer. "badness" is not a word. Go buy yourself a dictionary, fuckers. And the definition of "Foreboding" is not "The feeling that badness s happening right now". No wonder this country is going straight to hell. Bloody hollywood.")

Yes... yes, I know. I need help.

Big news for Spasm.

HAHAHA! Yes, i have news for you, spasm! But I shall keep it untill the very end of my post! Of course, you may have already been told by the time you read this, or you might just cheat and scroll down to the bottom of this post. but that would be cheating. And besides, you want the surprise, don't you?
Yesterday i did not post because I wagged class and went to sleep. unfortunately, my old, faithful Alcatel cell phone of the last eight yeara has been getting more and more reliable these days, so I woke up only ten minutes before the time I was due at work. People said that it was freezing outside, but you kind of don't notice when you are trying to break the land-speed record for the uphill dash. I made it on time too. because I am a god.
Today at work it was busy, but I got invited to a thearter sports thing on thursday. I might go. Mainly because it was an attractive young woman who asked me, not the bastard theatre hell bestie's that you usually associate with theatre sports. This might be a bad idea, because I have FAR TOO MUCH to do lately, what with bands and work and drinking and by the way spasm I am comming to auckland to see you and school work, but, oh, what the hey, I will try it out anyway because I am a sucker for punishment.
Soon, I have to go to a tutorial. This will be only the second time this trimester that I will be completly preared for a tutorial. It is on Ben Jonson's "The Alchemist". But you know, I am just far too cool for all this kind of stuff, and they shouldn't give me good grades so that I have an incentive to actually do some work. Although, as complained of above, I don't really have enough time for that bollocks anyway.
Soon it is the holidays. I am going to go home and sleep. For pretty much the whole two weeks. Good old sleep.

HAH! No news here! I hid it somewhere in in code in the middle of all that trollop! That will teach you for scrolling down to the bottm of the post! Earthquake my sins indeed.

Again I am hungover.

Damn my beard is big. I have been meaning to go to the barbers so as to ge a trim for a fourtnight now, but I have been too busy even to go and get my face fungi taken off. Oh pity me, for life is a trial.
Did I take that DVD out of the drive? Why yes, yes I did.
This is in fact the first time I have been in my own house since the weekend started. I have been out doing things, doing things while inoxicated. Last night is worth special mention, because after I had a 2/3rd's of a bottle of Midoori, a bottle of wine and a bottle of scrumpy, Me and my friends went to town to visit the various meat markets, and I got less than looked at. Good times. But seriously, we traipsed through all the low down crappy bars which play remixed versions of the "milkshake song" all night long and people go their to hook up with strangers. God knows why. Actually, none of us had much luck. The friends of mine who are girls of course were danced at by a couple of guys, but that is because men are controlled by their penises. Well known fact. Anyway, with my face covered in fuzz and wearing a shirt whichgot me denied entry from one or two bars that think they have standards, I am not too surprised, nor am I too dissapointed. Fuck one night stands. I want someone to talk to.
After all that we went to a place and had Roti Channai, but it wasn't at the normal place. It was a bugger load more spicy, and they gave us a lot more roti bread. As an added bonus, the poeple at the table next to us left two whole chicken hot-pot things behind them, and so we ate them as well. And I stole myself a bottle of pump from the cabenet because I wanted to get some water but nobody was serving me, so I got it myself. Fuckers. Provide better sevice. So actually, the eating of the food at the place would have been the best part of the night, if two of my friends had not gotten sick from it.

Hey, an earthquake just happened. As I was typing this. Cool. The only problem is that if there was a big quake right now, I don't think I could be bothered getting out of bed and standing under the doorframe. I think I would just lie here and take it.

BRING IT ON EARTH TREMORS!

Gay.

The topic of todays post is gay.
Today I was gay. no, I don't mean I felt happy and full of vim and vigor, or that I woke up next to a naked fat man this morning. No, I mean that I drank too much last night, had too little sleep, and although I woke up still rather drunk, halfway through today the hangover hit and I had to drink six cans of "Lift +" to be able to continue functioning in a semi-effeicent way. I am feeling alot better now, but there was a small period there where I thought I was going to throw up. Alcohol is a drug, people. Remeber that when you drink, a small peice of Jesus, who likes inside you, possibly areund the gullet area, yes a small peice of Jesus, dies. I although I am a fan of the big man, sometimes I like to cause him pain. Extend these comments in a Freudean sense, and you would get a very interesting and quite possibly demented reading of my personality. But of course you know I am kidding. OR AM I??!!

That was Gay.

God is Gay also. Because today, at work, a friday, which is supposed to be the easiest going of all days, perfect for nurturing that ill gotten hangover, he decided to whip out his wang and fill the cafe with customers. And not just any customers. No. Semi-Human customers. spawn of Satan customers. Customers both from the deepest pits of night and the furterest circles of hell, deformed almost beyond rcognition, sticky fingered and shill voiced creatures of nightmare. Thats right. My cafe was suddenly populated by a good sixty children. Let me ask you: When did a university cafe, full of moody, brooding, studying, drinking, drunking students, suddenly become an appropriate family Eating spot? What the fuck is wrong with McDonalds? Do you see a play area, complet with pit of plastic balls and trench coat wearing pediophiles? No? Thats because we don't want your abnormal offspring here. So fuck off. You gay bastards.

Children are the oh so gay.

You know what esle is gay? Taxes. No really, I should be thanking the government for taking all my money away. It's not like I need it to pay bills, or save for a scooter, or buy text books, or get drunk or live. Nope, I do none of them things. I got my pay slip today, and opened it up, because I thought for the 33 fucking hours I worked last week my $270 paycheck was a little sparse, especially since I had just received a whole $0.15 pay rise. Yes, I opened up the payslip, the design of which, I might add, was obviously designed by a gay man in a basement with no sense of ergonomics in a dark basement: tear here, insert tab b into slot c, turn around three times, say the password, and then bend over to receive the reaming that is the government taking $70 out of my paycheck for whatever the fuck. You know, seventy dollars is more than one day worth of work for me. I could have stayed in bed and slept of my hangover. But in truth, I have just worked, whicle in great agony, to pay for the highways in Auckland. Fuck Auckland. In the Bum.

Auckland is Gay.

But you know what wasn't gay? My gig last night. I was as nerovus as a homosexual in Nazi Germany, honestly, if I had had anything to eat that day it would have been in my pants, but I got up on stage, played my five songs with only six fuck ups, which people either didn't notice or were too kind to mention, and got back off the stage again. I seriously didn't think I did too well, but people seemed to like our interesting style, and considering the fact that we have only had three practices, we did damn well. Our music has come a longway from the days of getting drunk and sitting on a balcony, improvising songs to one badly tuned acustic guitar. Now we do it in a pub. Our next practice is on tuesday. We have a new song on the way, and i suppose we will start looking for other gigs.

Being in a band is not the Gay.

First gig

Well, tongiht is my first gig, and I am excited, scared and drunk. But first, there is a small matter of an essay that I have to get out of my way. It is only 1500 words long, and two hundred level, and I have already done the reasearch, and should only take me about 3hours to do, but damn I wish I was doing something else. Like sleeping. Or not sleeping because of nerves. Or because if nervously shitting myself. Anything but this essay. I don't like essays.

And I have nothing else to say.

I have no car, I have no money, but I'm in a band.

Tonight I have my last band practice before my first band gig. my band, The Crazy (the name should give you a hint as to what kind of music will be playing) will be at Happy Bar on thursday at or about 8pm. Good times indeed, as we now have a drummer to accompany me on Accustic and my frined on the electric, and are ready to release the romdom song upon the ears of the unsuspecting public.
Apart from that, I am just tired. Too much work, too many essays, too little sleep. I managed to burn my belly at work today. Burning your hands, fine. Thats just a part of working with hot coffee machines and deep fryers. But your belly? You have to have done something pretty special to do that. And thats me. Im special.

Special like a Fox.

A new week.

Monday. Again. All the work. Today I washed dishes. I am actually quite glad I was washing dishes. Bugger doing the coffee. In would have been busy to buggery. Buggerage. Bugger.
But yes, it is a new week, a new week filled with many, many things. In half an hour I have a class test, on the monster of a book that is David Copperfeild. I have to hand in an essay, and return my Jesus costume to the Costume cave. I shall eat Roti Channai, buy some ciggarets, then put out the trash and have a band practice. And thats just today. The rest of the week is going to be filled with gigs, Scrubs, drinking, work, more essays, bags that look like animals that you can open up and put things inside (like candy) and, if I have time, some sleep. I quite like sleep.
Damn, my beard is itchy. I need a trim.
What else? My body hurts, and my insides are dying, but thats old news. We have lost the cheese slicer at my flat. I cannot find it. It is surprising how much you come to rely on a cheese slicer. Using a knife is just not the same. I hate misshapen lumps of cheese. Does something to the flavour. I could talk about cheese all dday. But I wont. I think I shall go hand in my essay.

VIVA LOS CHEESE SLICER!

TODAY IN HISTORY: Since this blog has been going for a year, I have decided to have a look at the things I was doing at this time in the past, where I am told, they do things differently. I will then be able to tell weather I have become more interesting or crazy or whathave you.
AUGUST THE FIFTH (not today I know but live with it) OF THE TWO THOUSAND AND FIVE: On this date, Flan went to the doctors to make sure he didn't have the diabeties. He was approximately 50% less crazy at this time last year, but 25% more interesting. With this news, Flan shares have dropped an alarming 50cents a share, and still trade at precisely $0.01.
Investers are said to be unconcerned. As they don't exist. I bet your glan you kept on reading, aren't you? Yes, this is five minutes of life you will never get back! NEVER!

Sex

I am still alive. Yes, I know it might have been a while since I last posted, but that has been because I have been busy. Busy sleeping. AROUND THAT IS! Did he just go there? Oh yes he did! Finally, I have evidence that getting completly shitfaced midweek and spending all your money on expensive drinks yeilds positive results.
On wednesday the 26th of July, I had my first random and completly string free sexual experiance. And since I have not had a chance to talk about sex much for quite some time, I am now going to do so. Lots.
Anyway. I was drinking on a wednesday, as you do, and watching Scrubs with some friends. I had two bottles of wine, and they then persuaded me to go to the Kumera with them. The good old Kumera. Of course, nothing ever happens at the Kumera, and after a few Red-Bull Vodkas, I did my usual dissapering act, wandered the streets of wellington, jumped in some bushes and ended up in the one place I knew I would find no one I knew: The Wellington Sports Cafe, home of DB drinking jock-tards. The mind of a drunk works in mysterious ways.
Anyhoo, their I met a woman by the name of Crystal, who had blonde hair and a tattoo. We went to one of those little bars above street level somewhere, where I spet about $90 on Matinis. The Vodka kind.
She had a flat thing somewhere on cuba. I forget where, because I was drunk.
She asked if I would like some coffee.
Damn straight I wanted coffee. I had not had coffee in so long I had almost forgotten what the hell coffee was like. I proably would have gone upstairs with her if she asked if I wanted warm, dirty water. We had coffee, and that, my friends, is why last tuesday I turned up at work half an hour late, in the same clothes as I had been wearing the day before, still drunk and smelling like the brewery.
I was ill for three days afterwards, proably because of the alcohol I had put inside me. Remeber, Alcohol is a drug, and poison to your organs. But sometimes you just have to do it, and hope that you don't start bleeding internally.
For the record, Crystal hasn't rung, even though I left a number. It has been a week, so now I can safely put it behind me. It was just one night of sex.

Still I am alone in my smelly single bed. But it could be worse, I suppose.

A true fan?

Well, last weekend was fun. i left my home on friday at 4pm, and returned at 11.30pm on sunday. The time inbetween was filled mostly with eating. After Friday night, in which I drank much beer, danced, felt sorry for myself, had a guy try to get me out of bed by taking off his pants and then falling asleap, I then met up with a few friends for the mandatory hangover brunch at B4. Then we had gelato, which is a kind of ice thing with fruit in it, then we went to te papa, got scared by someone hanging around in that cave thing in the garden walk. Then we decided to go to Poriruha, ("It's amazing!") the city which seems to have been built haphazardly around a mall. And a badly organized mall at that. Will at the mall of Labrinth, we had sushi, ice cream and the wendys Sake and Dog. Then we went back to my friends flat where we played video games, ate fish and chips, followed by more ice cream, and I slept on the couch. The next day, much of the same happened, but with mroe left overs. Damn my friends, they are trying to fatten me up so they look better alongside me.
Say what you like about working 30hours while being a full time student, but you certainly have enouogh money to do whatever the hell you feel like. When you find the time to, of course.

So now onto the disscusion as hinted by the title of this rant. If any of you go to my previous post and look at the comment you will not find, as I expected, a post by ad-ware proclaiming that 'You have a relly interesting blog, I liked it, maybe you would like my blog to it is called "lawnmower.shopandsave.blogspot.com" it think you would really like it", but rather a comment which may be semi-genuine. Sorry if this hurts someones feelings, but I would not put it past one of my friends to actually start a blog somewhere soley to lure me into a false hope of compainionship with someone outside my usual relm of everyday activitiy. I'm looking at you, I**, G****, and especially you D****, after that masterfully planned cell phone prank, in which he had me and my worst enemy hitting on each other though guarded txt messages. So, In conclusion, forgive this jaded soul if he is a little sceptical.

In other news, tommorow is payday. I plan to have subway for dinner tonight, so as I can once again advoid the rigors of having to cook for myself, and therefore use up the last of my money. I am supposed to be saving for a scooter so I can travel someplaces, but this has not yet happened. But the fact that, for the first time in many weeks, I do not have any particular plans for this weeked. This means that I should hypothetically be able to save some money, but no doubt someone will persuade me to go out and put a bottle of wine or other toxic substance inside me. Really, I don't take that much persuasion.

Oh, and in other other news, My friend and me have a gig at Happy Bar on the 10th of August. Together, we form the two peice guitar band known as "The". I don't think Happy bar really knows what it is getting itself into, what with our eight song repitiour about tree love and drunken marrige proposals, but it should be fun night. Anyone is welcome to turn up, as long as they come suffecently prepared with and open, slightly intoxicated mind.

HAH! I'm skipping class to do this! So there, uni education!

The WEEKEND of all...stuff.

I did stuff over the weekend! I got conprehensably drunk, even though I cannot spell it, and played my guitar and sung for millions of people, give or take alot, and walked home from a suburb that is along way away from where I live, to spend my sunday iun bed because I had a hangover. And I lost my pants. Life is good.

I have just had my first tutorial for this trimester. It is a second year course, and god damn I am good. I haven't even touched the damn book that we were talking about and yet I have more of an idea about it than anyone else did. I am going to have fun on this course, I can tell. There is nothing like knowing that you can pass a course with both hands behind your back.
I know I am sounding a bit, you know, up myself, but honestly, something must click after you finish second year, becuase I am on fire. I love english. All I want to do in life is just hang around, read books and write a bit.

All is good.

Thirty hours of money!

Well, what a week. Almost all of it has been spent working. And working hard. Making coffee may not sound much like a trial, but it is when you have to open a cafe, serve customers without scalding them and try to remain happy, upbeat and curteous. I ownt bore you with the details, but it has been a tiring five days, and now I am looking to being able to sleep in tommorow.
And by sleep in, I mean sleeping past the hour of 7am. I bet half of you cannot even remeber what 7am looks like. Well, its dark. And cold. You aren't missing out on much.
Tommorow, however, will be much more fun. My mate and me, who together form the two peice guitar band "The" are performing and my mates flatmates party. Drinking and fun aplenty, we will be performing old "The" classics like "Apple Tree" and "Goats", but also have two new, super slick songs that will have to be heard to be beleived. Honestly. The subject matter for these songs are quite strange. Because thats what we are. Two strange men.
We have only just finished a jam session parctising and finalizing the set order. For those of you who are not so musically gifted, a jam session is when musicans get together to muck around and make up stuff. Usually they are fun and easy. The session that we just had, while being fun, has also left me feeling like I have been run over. I need sleep.

Make your money on MTV? No bloody thank you. That shit is hard.

Breakfast

Today has been better. i think it has been better because I had breakfast. and because I remembered to close the front door after me this morning. And because i didn't burn my hand at work. Alot of things have been better today, in fact.

And all because of Hubbards Outward Bound cereal. Thank you Mr. Hubbard.

It begins...AGAIN!

I am tired. oh so tired. Today I started work at 7:30. In the am. And then I burnt my hand. Lots of times. Then I finished. At 1pm. Only 5 and a half hours, but god damn. I tired.
I haven't even had any classes yet! my first one is at 3pm., and I get home tonight at 5. Hopefully I will have enough energy to eat and watch greays anotomy, but then I have to sleep, in preperation to do it all again the next day. Hooray.

The twenty first I went to was fun. There was lots of food, and much beer. I drank too much, and fell asleap in the back seat of a car. You would think that the back seat of a car would be nice and comfortable, but it is not. Especially not the back seat of my friends car, which is damp, and smells funny. Luckly I have snoopy pajamas, and they made things good.
Nothing, however, coould make the trip back to welly good.
I was hung over. I hate traveling hungover. And I had to sit on the middle back seat. I hate sitting oon the middle back seat. It hurts my bum. And everyone else in the car was sick. I was just hungover, but we were all coffing and splutering and what have you. not very helpful, and we were all to tired to talk much.
Bu5t now I am back in wellington. i have3 a clothing drying rack, which means that it doesn't matter if it is raining, I can still wash my clotes. of course, now it is sunny. So I could dry my clothes outside if I wanted too. but I don't. I want to dry themn inside, thank you very much.

I hate karma.

You gotta be quick to catch this thrill ride!

I got back to Wellington on tuesday, after one hell of a boring bus ride, thanks to one I shall not name not being on the bus like he said he would. But I suppose thats ok. I finished off a book I was reading and even slept some. I don't usually sleep on public transport. I am afraid that I will wake up with an obese smelly semi-human drooling on my shoulder.
And tomorrow I go back to the bay again. There is a 21st happening, and I have been brow beaten into going. Admitedly, it didn't take much browbeating, for there will be free booze. Also, it is a ex-arch nemises party that I am going to, and that doesn't happen very often.
How do you get an ex-arch nemisis, you ask? Well, the process is a lot more complicated than aquiring a nemisis, of any level. But part of the process I will chalk up to the fact that I lived with this woman for bout six months and then called the police on her. This kind of behaviour will crack the ice on any relationship. Or they will never speak to you again. Coin toss!
When does it become madatory to start calling people men/women instead of boys/girls? I wonder.
What was I talking about?

I just finished 'To Kill a Mockingbird.' It was good. Very good in fact. I was spared the trial of having to read it during my time at high school, and feel very grateful that I was not prejudiced against it by any stupid and cranky english teacher.

What am I going to wear? I just do not know.

Because love in youth loves not what youth is told.

Warning: This post be filled of me being a whinging bastard.

I don't like my sisters boyfriend. He is an idiot. He is 16 (she is 18) and he doesn't go to school. He doesn't have a job. He does't speak. He doesn't thank my parents when they make him dinner. He doesn' help with the dishes. When he is here he drags my sister off to her bedroom and fills her head with stupid ideas like 'Hey, why don't you quit your job? Yeah, I know you don't have another job to go to, but hey, I have an aunty in Taupo that may/may not have work for us, why not take your car and your money and go there and god knows where we are going to live because I AM AN IDIOT.'
Of course, my sister can make some pretty stupid desicions, but she is my sister, so I have t olook to a cause I can beat the snot out of. Now granted, when I was this guys age I was doing some pretty thoughtless things also. I too was going out with an 18 year old, and, granted, we did spend a fair amount of time in bedrooms, but we didn't make noises equivalent to the sound of a elephant heard in a cupboard at midnight, and I at least offered help whenever I could. Or I hope I did. My memory is famously crap, and what proably happend was that I hung around like a slightly nervous shadow. But it was a shadow with manners. And I was still in school. This guy will become CHB's next grounds keeper, and my sister will be stuck in Waipuk, proably at the freezing works. That no hope bastard. I really want him to just dissapear.

Well, got that off my chest. Tommorow, it certanly seems I will be going back to wellington. There, I shall start the arduous process that will prepare me for the next few years of my life. I have one and a bit trimesters before I graduate from my BA, and then I go to teaching college. In the meantime ihave t odo things like save money and get a license and all sorts of other gay things. Gay in the extreem. I have to say, I am getting stressed. i am not very prone to stress, especially not when I still have one week of holiday yet. But I am. I am going to have to get into some of this crap quick smart, otherwise it is going to accumalate into an impregnable ball of crap. Much like my washing pile.

So in conclusion: Women! Huh! Aye? What are they thinking? Bloody Women.

Science is great

So, on wednesday I went to the place where the doctors are kept. My doctor said: whats the problem? I said: My shoulders fucked. He poked my shoulder for a couple of minutes, drew on it with a pen, and then incected my with stuff. And now my shoulder is fine. You don't actually notice low grade, constant pain untill it isn't there anymore. Now I can bench press! If I ever felt the need.
Not a lot else has happened, however. last night I saw the last episode in the 'Full Metal Alchemist' seris. This was slightly unfortunate, becuase I only bought the first episodes about a week ago, I have not seen the whole seris and now have been left with a book ends kinda impression of it. But still, it was a good impression. The same theing happened with Evangellion, but if you saw the last three episodes of Eva before you saw anything else and had any fucking idea what was going on, you belong in MENSA. Full Metal Alchemist is slightly less complex, but the story line, or what I have seen of it, is very very good.

On an almost completly unrelated note, 'Gumdam Seed' gobbles the man penis.
"Dance like a pansy through the waves of Emo, Gundam!"
It makes me sick. In fact, it makes me so sick that I am going to have to rant about it. I know, you thought I was finished. i thought I was finished. But I am not. Because Gumdam sucks. No amount of lengthy scenes where two charaters stare at each other in what is obviously supposed to be a heartfelt manner is going to elicit any kind of audience response. And contary to popular belif, just being all 'oh, i don't know what to do about this war/ that girl/ my life/ oh im so fucked up' does not make you Shinji.

Although Shinji was a pretty pathetic case sometimes, he is nothing compared to the fucker from Gundam. I don't even know his name.

Hoodaddy!

well, I have been super productive. Yesterday I learn't three songs that I can now play on my guitar. And by my guitar, I mean my dad's guitar that I use when I come home. I can tell he hasn't been playing, because even though I have been away for a couple of months ,the damn thing is still mainly in tune. But does it ever need new strings. They are rusted cables of things. Back home in wellington, I have just reciently re-strung my acustic with low gauge strings (low guage means that the strings are thin), adn it feels like I am playing my eletric. unfortunately, it also means that it sounds like I am playing my electric. All nice and tinny.
But the point of this explanation is that my figers have gotten used to my tiny featherweight strings, and after a day of playing with huge, rusty cables, I feel like I have put my fingers into a meat grindrer. And because the strings are so old, it old sounds slightly better. In fact, I don't know if the strings have been changed on that guitar since Dad bought it. Perhaps I shall have to do so when I come home next time.

What the fuck is wrong with this space bar? It keeps putting the space in the wrong place.

Anyway, today I have a doctors appointment. I like comming home, because then I can get my parents to pay for essential stuff like finding out why I have the body of a learned and sexy, but very old, man. Seriously, My shoulder has been fucking killing me for a while now. I go to phisio, and it gets worse. so now I am going to go and see a real doctor. And my joints click. People can tell it's me because of my shoddy ankels. And my hip bothers me when it's going to rain. And since I live in wellington, it bothers me more or less constantly. And don't even get me started on my prostate.

Well, actually, it's fine. As far as I can tell. It just in hibernation. Thats all.

Anyway, off to watch cartoons, do some wrinting (I have to submit some poetry for a course when I get back to Welly) and play the finger crippling guitar again. Fun times! God ilove having things to eat all around me. I think I might have ice-cream for breakfast.

War! Huh! What is it good for?

Getting rid of waipuk, thats wha. Yes, I am back in my little hometown, with it's one street and not a hell of alot else. I am also awake at 8am. Why? Because in the silence of the Waipuk pre-dawn, my parents getting up for work make slightly less noise than a herd of elephants on some sort of narcotics.
Anyway, the 21st went well. Nothing much to report there, really. It was exactly like all of my friends had gotten together and hit the bottle, with slightly more regard for their personal apperance than usual. And the drinks were cheeper, too. $2 whiskey! I spent $30.
Today, on the other hand, I have not much too do. I am going to retrieve some files from the internet, do some writing, eat everything Ican find around the house, and probably end up playing a substancial amount of Pinball.

Dear god I'm sleeply. Bugger this 9 to 5 crap, working everyday would suck.