Old

Those were the days my friend,
We thought they’d never end,
We’d sing and dance,
Forever and a day.
We'd live the life we'd choose,
We'd fight and never lose,
For we were young
And sure to have our way.
Di di di di di di
Di di di di di di
Di di di di di di di di di di


The immortal words of Mary Hopkins (I don’t know who she is either, but somehow I know the song).

It is nearly 8.30 on a Friday night and I am home alone with no plans to go out. And I am HAPPY about it. I went for the weekly drinks-after-work, which we like to call ‘de-briefing’ but when you finish at four that is an early time to start boozing. So I sat in the sun, had a couple of glasses of wine, and then headed home. But the thing is, I really wanted to go home.
So I have come to the conclusion that I am officially an adult.
I’m tired. I want to curl up with a good book in my bed and ignore the world. When did this happen? 3 weeks ago when I got a job. It’s strange, but I guess I had to grow up sometime.
The highlight of my day was debating with fourteen-year-olds about the ‘Bloody Mary’ episode of South Park. Unfortunately we all felt the same way, so I had to play devil’s advocate, but nonetheless it was fun.
See; old.

Di di di di di di
Di di di di di di…

Tool for procrastination

A friend sent me this link. It's quite fun, even if the limp body did start to make me feel a little queasy. Just click on his body to move him around or just watch him fall.

Enjoy.

http://www.planetdan.net/pics/misc/georgie.htm

Scandal!

New Zealand director Lee Tamahori was arrested in Los Angeles for trying to hook an under-cover cop, dressed in drag (Tamahori, not the cop). Tamahori directed pearlers such as Die Another Day and XXX, but let’s not hold that against him, he did also bring us Once were Warriors, which was rather good.

So, he was arrested and of course the scandal hit the news, and then it was forgotten.
However, today whilst I was browsing through the Wellingtonian I came across an article entitled ‘That’s my dress, Lee’. It is about this woman complaining that the Sunday News used her body and frock to paste Tamahori’s face over on their front page. She is really angry about it. The photo had been taken for another article in The Dominion Post last year, and the photo editor obviously felt that this particular dress was Tamahori’s style. I think it’s hilarious, I mean come on, imagine being at a newsstand and seeing your body with a man’s head on it. But this woman (who wishes to remain anonymous) is fuming. And do you know what she is worried about? She is worried that people will think that she is a transvestite. I know, I don’t completely understand the logic there either. Does she think that a) people will instantly recognise her body, b) people will then think that she must have had a very clever make-up job that transformed her into the exact likeness of
Lee Tamahori? Lee Tamahori in drag?

Basically what this woman is saying is people will think that she has dressed herself up as a man dressed up as a woman. It runs like a Shakespearean comedy. Sometimes I despair of people.

As for Tamahori, he should have brought his kinky games over here back home where prostitution is legal. Silly Lee.

The Agony of Realisation

I just realised I am in huge debt. I mean, I was always aware that I have a student loan, but it has only really just sunk in.

I have just completed five years of study and have my first real grown-up job. As I was filling out my tax forms and payment details it suddenly struck me: ‘My God, I am over $50,000 in debt’. And it will be with me for a very long time. On a teacher’s salary I’m never going to be rich. So the plan is to marry into wealth.

No, not really. But $50,000! That’s a lot of money where I come from. Well at least I won’t have to pay interest, bless the Labour government.

I think the best strategy to deal with this black cloud hovering over me is denial. The repayments will come out of my pay and I’ll never have to think about it.

What student loan?

Going on a flat hunt

We are currently trying to relocate, but it’s not easy. Ideally we want to be in Thorndon as it is close to the train station for me (50 minute train-ride is more than enough travel everyday without having to add on a 15 minute unreliable bus). But this is proving near impossible, unless we want to pay $500 a week, and I don’t think that will be happening anytime soon. ARrrrrrGGHhhhgghhhhhHh.

It’s frustrating, I can tell you. Yesterday we went to view this apartment next to the British High Commission. It was the pokiest little flat (smaller then our current one, which is saying something) and all in all quite depressing. For $330 I was expecting more, maybe I need to lower my expectations.

The good news is work is going wonderfully. It’s always nerve-wrecking starting a new job, especially when you have to stand in front of teenagers and pretend you know what you are doing. One of my students told me I look 17, bless him.
But my classes thus far have been great; let’s hope I’m feeing this positive when it comes to report time.

I'm actually a sleazy old man

I went to my first strip club on Friday night.

I had spent the day at the Rugby Sevens, which was absolutely fantastic. Luke and I dressed up as a pirate and a wench; it really is like going to a costume party with 30,000 other people. Met some really interesting characters, as tends to happen when drinking and in costume. So by the time it was all over, which was about 10.30, we were all in good spirits. Luke went home because he was ‘tired’, so I ended up going out with two male friends.

Somehow at the end of the night we ended up at that illustrious bar Santa Fe. I suspect I was easily taken there after all of the drinks my generous friends bought me. Also, my wench’s dress was getting a little too much attention and the guys thought they would take me somewhere quieter where they didn’t have to defend my honour (you don’t get any attention when fully clothed in a strip club)

It was quite different to what I was expecting. To start with it is a small place, and there weren’t that many men there. For some reason I had thought it would be more of a show, but I guess the girls are there to get naked; the audience doesn’t really want a show. The girls are undoubtedly talented. The acrobatics they can do on those poles is amazing. But what struck me is that most of them didn’t look happy. Obviously I didn’t expect them to have beauty pageant smiles as they took off their g-strings, but they really did look as if they were just doing their job, going through the motions.

I don’t really understand the appeal after my first experience. The strippers do have fantastic bodies, are quite athletic, and can walk around in the most ridiculously high heels – but they don’t want the men who are ogling them. I would have thought that part of the attraction to women is having some sense that they are also interested in you. I talked to Luke about it and he said that most men will ignore this facet, forget that it is her job to dance in front of you seductively, even when you are pushing money into her high thigh boot. I guess you could argue that it is about the aesthetics of the situation, you can appreciate a beautiful body without the compliment being returned.

So gentlemen (and ladies) what is the appeal? Please try to be more analytical in your answers than just saying ‘boobs’.

The Beautiful People

During my incredibly busy day yesterday I managed to squeeze in a bit of 'E!' watching. Yes I know it is complete garbage, but I was at my father’s and it happened to be on while I was doing a crossword puzzle. So whilst trying to think what greyish Eurasian horse was hunted to extinction in 1909, I stared in an almost hypnotic state at the beautiful people gracing the television screen. It was the red carpet interviews of a big Hollywood award ceremony; I’m not sure which one, nor do I really care.

I’m not really too interested in what the celebs were gushing about, but I’m a sucker for a pretty frock, and so I watched. I couldn’t help reflect on how amazingly beautiful all of these people are. And how that makes me, one of the common people, feel. What surprised me the most is I’m actually ok with it.

When I was younger I couldn’t help but feel less than desirable when flicking through a magazine or watching television. I’m not saying that I am now the picture of high self-esteem, what woman is? But I have finally come to terms with the fact that I don’t have to look like Paris Hilton or Angelina Jole. That brings me to another point, even though both of these women are considered beautiful, there are men who will disagree that one or the other are bastions of aesthetic perfection. So you can’t really win. I know that a skinny blonde with big boobs and big lips will always be at the top of the male fantasy list, but everyone has different ideas of beauty, so you cannot please everyone.

I’m actually kind of glad I’m not part of the Beautiful Parade. I mean of course I wouldn’t hesitate to trade places with Catherine Zeta Jones (except for the old husband, she can keep him). But it must be hard to live up to those ideals of perfection. These days you have to look as attractive as ever when you are 9 months pregnant as well as the day you are let out of the hospital with a miniature beautiful person in tow. And what if your offspring aren’t deemed beautiful? Poor little bastards, that would be tough. 45 –year-olds are expected to have the figure of a 14-year-old, and often the face to match. Screw all that plastic surgery; I think I’d rather age gracefully. Or decline rapidly in an alcoholic stupor – we’ll see how things pan out.

Where am I going with this you may ask? Well it is more of a personal discovery more than anything. But I feel for those teenage girls out there, and indeed women of all ages, who cannot accept that not everyone can be a cover-girl. My younger sister is a beautiful young woman who is at the school of performing arts. She is a very talented actress and dancer, and fortunately has the required physical attributes for her chosen profession. But I worry that she will feel the pressure more acutely then many of us. Her ‘look’ will be scrutinised often, which cannot be good for one’s confidence.

Despite the continuous outrage over THE MEDIA’s portrayl of beauty, things are not going to change anytime soon. Beauty has always had an ideal; it is not much different from the 18th century when a pretty face could get you far. I appreciate beauty in all aspects of life, but I’m not going to let it consume my own esteem.

Oh and I never did figure out the horse. Any ideas?