Friday night: dinner(1) at Iguacu, and a bottle of rather sweet Riesling. I like my wine sweet, and I'm not about to apologise to you. M chugged it down like a trooper because I refuse to drink red. Bless him.
So I'm very out-of-it by the time we get home, yet M, being a seasoned drinker (read: engineer), decides he wants to go out drinking again. Apparently I'm an awesome girlfriend, because my response to this - whilst snuggled in bed - was "go away and drink with R, I'm sleeping, have fun, if she's hot I have dibs on seconds." Mm. All class.
He denies all knowledge of trying to wake me up for nookie at 4am by rubbing his painful stubbley chin over my boobs, of course.
Saturday: I don't think we actually did much on Saturday. Oh, went to Burger Fuel (tofu burger with plum sauce, no aioli, no peanut sauce) with R, who was wearing the bloody awesome pith helmet two good friends gave me as a Christmas present. PITH HELMET.
Sunday: Christmas shopping (M's, I just tagged along complaining in a bloke-ish manner and wanting to look in the electronics section). Saw King Kong, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Annoyed the kitchen staff at a Thai restaurant by inquiring into the ingredients in each of their vegetarian dishes to see if they could be made vegan (there was chicken in one 'vegetarian' meal, said the chef, so you bring it upon yourselves guys with your spurious labeling). Then M went back to the army (not before crowing at his own ability to change his car headlight's bulb) and I went off to a girly night, bruised in all the right places.
I can't remember the last time I had a weekend that was, like the one above, awesome all the way through.
I'm still waiting for NCEA to pay me. Oh they're so polite, those government agencies. Of course I don't want more than a day in which to do all my Christmas shopping, working on the theory that you even pay me tomorrow. Of course I don't want to buy presents for two friends, one of which is already late. Of course it's unreasonable to expect to be paid by now for a job I completed over a month ago. Of course.
Unnethe's Christmas Wish List, or, What I've Requested from Family and Friends:
A new-fangled Bendon sports bra, the heavy-duty one. Bliss.
New running pants (my old ones are now too loose, which is a good thing I'm aware).
A safari suit (the most whimsical of my desires, but oh so dashing with my newest head ornamentation).
An 'Ex Libris [real name here]' stamp. You try to keep my books, you die. Horribly.
Book vouchers.
Random Musings:
Sometimes I feel I don't know which way my head is screwed on, or what I want. I don't know whether to act or think about what I want first. I put past unsavoury memories into this pit in my head, and they become all fuzzy and blur a bit. The result is I don't know what I felt, whether it was valid... I'm sick of trying to work out what I want. I'd like it just to come to me, not the whole solution, but some direction of where to go. Emotionally that is. My medieval obsession still stands.
Body Advice Wanted:
I don't think I'm getting enough protein. I've been sleeping well, eating well, and exercising every day. But, I'm starting to think that's the problem: I feel oddly exhausted after I run now, not in a way that speaks of a lack of fitness (having run almost every day for the past 3 months that's not the problem), but in a way that feels like my body saying "hey, I'd rather like some more protein... I'm going to start digesting muscle if you ignore me. Oh wait I already am."
I eat about 1200-1400 calories per day, and I'm vegan. I can't eat beans every day, or I'll be both smelly and bored. I'm trying to drink 2 cups of soy milk a day, with some soy yoghurt, and I've increased my breads/grains intake. No change.
Ideas?
(1) I had a salad, sans dressing. Not, as the loud fat women at the next table loudly suspected, because I am a young and petite hussy with an eating disorder: rather, because that's all there was that wasn't all animal. Oh, loud fat women, your husbands were far more receptive to my entrance. Basically I just wanted to include a footnote. The make me feel funny in the right places.
So I'm very out-of-it by the time we get home, yet M, being a seasoned drinker (read: engineer), decides he wants to go out drinking again. Apparently I'm an awesome girlfriend, because my response to this - whilst snuggled in bed - was "go away and drink with R, I'm sleeping, have fun, if she's hot I have dibs on seconds." Mm. All class.
He denies all knowledge of trying to wake me up for nookie at 4am by rubbing his painful stubbley chin over my boobs, of course.
Saturday: I don't think we actually did much on Saturday. Oh, went to Burger Fuel (tofu burger with plum sauce, no aioli, no peanut sauce) with R, who was wearing the bloody awesome pith helmet two good friends gave me as a Christmas present. PITH HELMET.
Sunday: Christmas shopping (M's, I just tagged along complaining in a bloke-ish manner and wanting to look in the electronics section). Saw King Kong, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Annoyed the kitchen staff at a Thai restaurant by inquiring into the ingredients in each of their vegetarian dishes to see if they could be made vegan (there was chicken in one 'vegetarian' meal, said the chef, so you bring it upon yourselves guys with your spurious labeling). Then M went back to the army (not before crowing at his own ability to change his car headlight's bulb) and I went off to a girly night, bruised in all the right places.
I can't remember the last time I had a weekend that was, like the one above, awesome all the way through.
I'm still waiting for NCEA to pay me. Oh they're so polite, those government agencies. Of course I don't want more than a day in which to do all my Christmas shopping, working on the theory that you even pay me tomorrow. Of course I don't want to buy presents for two friends, one of which is already late. Of course it's unreasonable to expect to be paid by now for a job I completed over a month ago. Of course.
Unnethe's Christmas Wish List, or, What I've Requested from Family and Friends:
A new-fangled Bendon sports bra, the heavy-duty one. Bliss.
New running pants (my old ones are now too loose, which is a good thing I'm aware).
A safari suit (the most whimsical of my desires, but oh so dashing with my newest head ornamentation).
An 'Ex Libris [real name here]' stamp. You try to keep my books, you die. Horribly.
Book vouchers.
Random Musings:
Sometimes I feel I don't know which way my head is screwed on, or what I want. I don't know whether to act or think about what I want first. I put past unsavoury memories into this pit in my head, and they become all fuzzy and blur a bit. The result is I don't know what I felt, whether it was valid... I'm sick of trying to work out what I want. I'd like it just to come to me, not the whole solution, but some direction of where to go. Emotionally that is. My medieval obsession still stands.
Body Advice Wanted:
I don't think I'm getting enough protein. I've been sleeping well, eating well, and exercising every day. But, I'm starting to think that's the problem: I feel oddly exhausted after I run now, not in a way that speaks of a lack of fitness (having run almost every day for the past 3 months that's not the problem), but in a way that feels like my body saying "hey, I'd rather like some more protein... I'm going to start digesting muscle if you ignore me. Oh wait I already am."
I eat about 1200-1400 calories per day, and I'm vegan. I can't eat beans every day, or I'll be both smelly and bored. I'm trying to drink 2 cups of soy milk a day, with some soy yoghurt, and I've increased my breads/grains intake. No change.
Ideas?
(1) I had a salad, sans dressing. Not, as the loud fat women at the next table loudly suspected, because I am a young and petite hussy with an eating disorder: rather, because that's all there was that wasn't all animal. Oh, loud fat women, your husbands were far more receptive to my entrance. Basically I just wanted to include a footnote. The make me feel funny in the right places.
Bill Bailey, 'Love Song'.
I was alone my heart was cold it was a stone
my soul was lonely like a stone - there was no moss.
And when I danced I danced alone but then I did not dance
because I was alone. So I did not dance.
I shuffled through life invisible to all the happy couples who would mock
me with their merry laughter ha-ha-ha.
The only sound I heard in my lonely silent world was the rusty hammer of my
heart nailing at the hatred in my soul.
But then you came,
and my life was turned upside down.
You showed me the beauty of the things that I had never seen.
Like a snowflake that melts on the eyelash of a startled deer.
Or the painting of a dog that wears a deerstalker and
smokes a pipe that made you laugh so heartily,
but I had previously thought was rubbish.
Or the duck that lands so clumsily on a frozen pond in winter
but the intoxicating power of our love transforms this simple act into an
anthropomorphic drama where Mr. Ducks embarrassed and the other ducks are
laughing (quack quack quack quack quack).
AND THEN YOU LEFT!
And I have died a thousand deaths and I will die a thousand more!
I thought you were an angel - you turned out to be a whore!
And everything has turned to dust! Everything is infected with the plague!
Why did you have to sleep with Craig?
"Oh he's so sensitive, he's got a tattoo."
Yeah, carving your name with a compass in my forehead was not enough for you!
The snow flake on the eye of the dear has turned to
pus that oozes from an open wound.
The deer now blind, it stumbles into a ravine.
The duck lies shredded in a pancake,
soaking in the hoisin of your lies.
The dog has moved from the pipe to 60 cigarettes a day,
and coughs away his life in the cold neon research lab of your betrayal.
Of your betrayal!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Note I have highlighted the greatest line in a love song, ever.
So it's like this: free from the tyranny of organised academic paragraphing, I am wallowing carefree and whimsical in the tepid waters of incoherent muttering. Hence, the following format.
1) Dissertation abstract done. Cuckoldry being studied.
2) Marks back, first degree completed. A+, A+, A+, A.
3) "Honey, there's something glowing in the corner of the room, kill it!" - best after-sex line I have ever uttered. (The 'white' component of the marbled silicone was actually 'glow in the dark'.)
4) In the mall today I saw a small girl (teeny tiny) in a fluro pink tutu, and I was like, "dude, that would so have been me when I was that age, damn that's one awesome dress." And she had whiskers face-painted on in matching fluro pink glitter paint, and she did a dance while following mother, and she stuck her finger in her nose. Awesome.
5) Leaving the mall made me happy. No more shopping. No. I hate christmas tunes, I hate modern versions of christmas tunes even more, I hate noisy confined spaces and hundreds of teenaged mothers when it's sunny outside.
I won't say I don't like Christmas, because that's too simple a statement for a complicated emotional response, on my part. I don't like what Christmas has become. The road-death-rate goes up, the Women's Refuge is packed because Christmas is a time for abusing your wife and children, and the SPCA is filled with abandoned animals.
Christmas is a time of hurting everything around us, when humans really show just what arseholes we are. We become obsessed with consumerism and nothing else.
And don't give me any 'it's a time of happiness and forgiveness' shit. What are we actually doing that's making a difference? Well? Gave two dollars to charity? Well done. Very well done.
I'm sick of meeting stupid vegans (in person). My cat catches and chews on rats and eels because she's a freaking cat, and enjoys killing things. She has no conscious morality, being that morals are created by humans. So don't try to tell me she must be under-fed (have you SEEN the fatty?) She is a cat. C-A-T. Veganism is a human thing, and I make this choice in a position of relative wealth in a first world country. Every time I am ABLE to make the choice between sprayed and organic, between budget and luxury, I am aware of this.
I'm very happy, apart from the above two observations. I have the perfect weekend planned, which includes black and white rope bondage pictures of myself. Bliss. Summer is stretching out, and I'm in the mood to re-read Black Oxen. I must be joyful then...
I was alone my heart was cold it was a stone
my soul was lonely like a stone - there was no moss.
And when I danced I danced alone but then I did not dance
because I was alone. So I did not dance.
I shuffled through life invisible to all the happy couples who would mock
me with their merry laughter ha-ha-ha.
The only sound I heard in my lonely silent world was the rusty hammer of my
heart nailing at the hatred in my soul.
But then you came,
and my life was turned upside down.
You showed me the beauty of the things that I had never seen.
Like a snowflake that melts on the eyelash of a startled deer.
Or the painting of a dog that wears a deerstalker and
smokes a pipe that made you laugh so heartily,
but I had previously thought was rubbish.
Or the duck that lands so clumsily on a frozen pond in winter
but the intoxicating power of our love transforms this simple act into an
anthropomorphic drama where Mr. Ducks embarrassed and the other ducks are
laughing (quack quack quack quack quack).
AND THEN YOU LEFT!
And I have died a thousand deaths and I will die a thousand more!
I thought you were an angel - you turned out to be a whore!
And everything has turned to dust! Everything is infected with the plague!
Why did you have to sleep with Craig?
"Oh he's so sensitive, he's got a tattoo."
Yeah, carving your name with a compass in my forehead was not enough for you!
The snow flake on the eye of the dear has turned to
pus that oozes from an open wound.
The deer now blind, it stumbles into a ravine.
The duck lies shredded in a pancake,
soaking in the hoisin of your lies.
The dog has moved from the pipe to 60 cigarettes a day,
and coughs away his life in the cold neon research lab of your betrayal.
Of your betrayal!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Note I have highlighted the greatest line in a love song, ever.
So it's like this: free from the tyranny of organised academic paragraphing, I am wallowing carefree and whimsical in the tepid waters of incoherent muttering. Hence, the following format.
1) Dissertation abstract done. Cuckoldry being studied.
2) Marks back, first degree completed. A+, A+, A+, A.
3) "Honey, there's something glowing in the corner of the room, kill it!" - best after-sex line I have ever uttered. (The 'white' component of the marbled silicone was actually 'glow in the dark'.)
4) In the mall today I saw a small girl (teeny tiny) in a fluro pink tutu, and I was like, "dude, that would so have been me when I was that age, damn that's one awesome dress." And she had whiskers face-painted on in matching fluro pink glitter paint, and she did a dance while following mother, and she stuck her finger in her nose. Awesome.
5) Leaving the mall made me happy. No more shopping. No. I hate christmas tunes, I hate modern versions of christmas tunes even more, I hate noisy confined spaces and hundreds of teenaged mothers when it's sunny outside.
I won't say I don't like Christmas, because that's too simple a statement for a complicated emotional response, on my part. I don't like what Christmas has become. The road-death-rate goes up, the Women's Refuge is packed because Christmas is a time for abusing your wife and children, and the SPCA is filled with abandoned animals.
Christmas is a time of hurting everything around us, when humans really show just what arseholes we are. We become obsessed with consumerism and nothing else.
And don't give me any 'it's a time of happiness and forgiveness' shit. What are we actually doing that's making a difference? Well? Gave two dollars to charity? Well done. Very well done.
I'm sick of meeting stupid vegans (in person). My cat catches and chews on rats and eels because she's a freaking cat, and enjoys killing things. She has no conscious morality, being that morals are created by humans. So don't try to tell me she must be under-fed (have you SEEN the fatty?) She is a cat. C-A-T. Veganism is a human thing, and I make this choice in a position of relative wealth in a first world country. Every time I am ABLE to make the choice between sprayed and organic, between budget and luxury, I am aware of this.
I'm very happy, apart from the above two observations. I have the perfect weekend planned, which includes black and white rope bondage pictures of myself. Bliss. Summer is stretching out, and I'm in the mood to re-read Black Oxen. I must be joyful then...
The vegan dinner was fantastic - great company and even better food, if that is possible.
Wheatmeat chicken is slightly unsettling... my mouth was replused by the 'realness' of the taste until my brain managed to convince it that yes, this is not actually dead flesh.
I have officially lost 10kg / 22 pounds in the last 3 months, as of today. Vegan + daily run.
My hair smells like tea tree oil. It is tasty.
I am working as an examiner for NCEA. This system is right up there with the anti-Christ and the Auckland public transport scheme. Yet, it pays well. These two things are not so mutually exclusive, but are proof that real evil is involved.
Wheatmeat chicken is slightly unsettling... my mouth was replused by the 'realness' of the taste until my brain managed to convince it that yes, this is not actually dead flesh.
I have officially lost 10kg / 22 pounds in the last 3 months, as of today. Vegan + daily run.
My hair smells like tea tree oil. It is tasty.
I am working as an examiner for NCEA. This system is right up there with the anti-Christ and the Auckland public transport scheme. Yet, it pays well. These two things are not so mutually exclusive, but are proof that real evil is involved.
Buzzhum tagged me for that journal thing. Fine, fine.
1) I have had malaria.
2) My first girlfriend cheated on me three times. Twice with guys. Suck!
3) She was also quite bad in bed.
4) My first cat was called Mushroom McGee.
5) Today my ex sent me flowers. I really hate excessive and inappropriate gifts.
6) I fall in love too easily. So I'm hardening up and being and Ethical Slut (thanks thefuckoffkid).
7) I have serious trust issues with men. A guy who was as close as a brother to me decided to try to seduce me last year (and being in a very bad place, I consented). Later in the 'relationship' he almost strangled me by not respecting the safe word.
8) I get really pissed off with myself if I don't get straight A-s.
9) I find it very very difficult to make female friends, so when I do I'm as close to them as sisters, and can count them on one hand.
10) I find it very easy to make male friends. I'm a geek!
11) I lost my virginity to a cunt. He's a funny cunt, and we're still kindof friends, but a cunt none-the-less. Traditional, non?
12) If I don't run everyday I get crotchety and want to hit things.
13) When I was young I used to rip the heads off barbie dolls and stuff them with flamable things.
14) I'm only growing my hair because my hairdresser retired. She's cut my hair since I've been having haircuts. NO ONE else touches my hair.
15) Once, I wore socks during sex. It felt decadent.
16) Silicone boobs really repluse me.
17) Men talking about sci-fi with me (particularly if they can discuss B5 and Farscape episodes in detail) is so hot...
18) But even hotter if it's a (lesbian) woman...
19) When I was seven I got 3rd degree burns to 80% of my body (basically everywhere but my head and one bit of my back). I'm not scarred. Which is odd, so odd I'm in medical text books as the freak girl with the excessively regenerating skin. My specialist basically said "miracle. Be thankful." And after a year in a body suit, I am...
20) This means I really really think I should have adamantium grafted to me. So awesome...
I think I'll tag larina, baudot and.... disturbed_13. So I'll go tell them...
DEAR EX-BOYFRIEND. I AM INFORMED THAT YOU ARE EITHER A) 'KEEPING AN EYE' ON MY JOURNAL ENTRIES, OR B) HAVE HACKED MY ACCOUNT. BOTH OPTIONS ARE HIGHLY PATHETIC. I AM ADVISED TO LEAN TOWARD OPTION B DUE TO YOUR COMMENTS REGARDING THE FACT THAT APPARENTLY WHAT I HAVE TOLD YOU ABOUT OUR BREAKUP IS NOT WHAT I HAVE WRITTEN IN HERE, AND ANY DETAILS I HAVE WRITTEN IN HERE ARE FOR MEMBERS ONLY VIEW. ALSO, YOU TEXTED MY EX-BOYFRIEND NOW-FRIEND FOR INFO ABOUT MY CURRENT LIFE? PLEASE DON'T HASSLE MY FRIENDS, YOU WILL MERELY EMBARASS YOURSELF. I HAD HOPED WE COULD BE FRIENDS, BUT THIS IS LOOKING LESS AND LESS LIKELY. I NEVER TOLD YOU WE WOULD GET BACK TOGETHER, I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU GOT THIS IDEA. I AM NOT INTERESTED IN THIS AT ALL. I AM SORRY THAT YOU ARE HURT, BUT AM EQUALLY SORRY THAT YOU APPEAR TO THINK US BREAKING UP WAS DUE TO MY STRESS OVER EXAMS, OR SOME OTHER SUCH TRIPE, RATHER THAN THE REAL ISSUES WE WERE HAVING. I CAN MAKE AN INFORMED DECISION THANK YOU VERY MUCH. TEXTING ME AT 11PM ON THE NIGHT BEFORE MY TWO VERY IMPORTANT EXAMS WITH A MESSAGE IN WHICH YOU REFER TO ME AS 'YOUR LADY' IS NOT COOL, ESPECIALLY AFTER YOU PROMISED TO RESPECT MY NEED TO STUDY IN A STRESS-FREE MANNER. WE BOTH HAVE TO MOVE ON, DO NOT CONTACT ME AGAIN UNLESS YOU CAN BE ADULT AND ACCEPT THE FACT THAT WE ARE PERMANENTLY BROKEN UP. YES, I AM VERY PISSED OFF. HOW EVER DID YOU NOTICE?
1) I have had malaria.
2) My first girlfriend cheated on me three times. Twice with guys. Suck!
3) She was also quite bad in bed.
4) My first cat was called Mushroom McGee.
5) Today my ex sent me flowers. I really hate excessive and inappropriate gifts.
6) I fall in love too easily. So I'm hardening up and being and Ethical Slut (thanks thefuckoffkid).
7) I have serious trust issues with men. A guy who was as close as a brother to me decided to try to seduce me last year (and being in a very bad place, I consented). Later in the 'relationship' he almost strangled me by not respecting the safe word.
8) I get really pissed off with myself if I don't get straight A-s.
9) I find it very very difficult to make female friends, so when I do I'm as close to them as sisters, and can count them on one hand.
10) I find it very easy to make male friends. I'm a geek!
11) I lost my virginity to a cunt. He's a funny cunt, and we're still kindof friends, but a cunt none-the-less. Traditional, non?
12) If I don't run everyday I get crotchety and want to hit things.
13) When I was young I used to rip the heads off barbie dolls and stuff them with flamable things.
14) I'm only growing my hair because my hairdresser retired. She's cut my hair since I've been having haircuts. NO ONE else touches my hair.
15) Once, I wore socks during sex. It felt decadent.
16) Silicone boobs really repluse me.
17) Men talking about sci-fi with me (particularly if they can discuss B5 and Farscape episodes in detail) is so hot...
18) But even hotter if it's a (lesbian) woman...
19) When I was seven I got 3rd degree burns to 80% of my body (basically everywhere but my head and one bit of my back). I'm not scarred. Which is odd, so odd I'm in medical text books as the freak girl with the excessively regenerating skin. My specialist basically said "miracle. Be thankful." And after a year in a body suit, I am...
20) This means I really really think I should have adamantium grafted to me. So awesome...
I think I'll tag larina, baudot and.... disturbed_13. So I'll go tell them...
DEAR EX-BOYFRIEND. I AM INFORMED THAT YOU ARE EITHER A) 'KEEPING AN EYE' ON MY JOURNAL ENTRIES, OR B) HAVE HACKED MY ACCOUNT. BOTH OPTIONS ARE HIGHLY PATHETIC. I AM ADVISED TO LEAN TOWARD OPTION B DUE TO YOUR COMMENTS REGARDING THE FACT THAT APPARENTLY WHAT I HAVE TOLD YOU ABOUT OUR BREAKUP IS NOT WHAT I HAVE WRITTEN IN HERE, AND ANY DETAILS I HAVE WRITTEN IN HERE ARE FOR MEMBERS ONLY VIEW. ALSO, YOU TEXTED MY EX-BOYFRIEND NOW-FRIEND FOR INFO ABOUT MY CURRENT LIFE? PLEASE DON'T HASSLE MY FRIENDS, YOU WILL MERELY EMBARASS YOURSELF. I HAD HOPED WE COULD BE FRIENDS, BUT THIS IS LOOKING LESS AND LESS LIKELY. I NEVER TOLD YOU WE WOULD GET BACK TOGETHER, I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU GOT THIS IDEA. I AM NOT INTERESTED IN THIS AT ALL. I AM SORRY THAT YOU ARE HURT, BUT AM EQUALLY SORRY THAT YOU APPEAR TO THINK US BREAKING UP WAS DUE TO MY STRESS OVER EXAMS, OR SOME OTHER SUCH TRIPE, RATHER THAN THE REAL ISSUES WE WERE HAVING. I CAN MAKE AN INFORMED DECISION THANK YOU VERY MUCH. TEXTING ME AT 11PM ON THE NIGHT BEFORE MY TWO VERY IMPORTANT EXAMS WITH A MESSAGE IN WHICH YOU REFER TO ME AS 'YOUR LADY' IS NOT COOL, ESPECIALLY AFTER YOU PROMISED TO RESPECT MY NEED TO STUDY IN A STRESS-FREE MANNER. WE BOTH HAVE TO MOVE ON, DO NOT CONTACT ME AGAIN UNLESS YOU CAN BE ADULT AND ACCEPT THE FACT THAT WE ARE PERMANENTLY BROKEN UP. YES, I AM VERY PISSED OFF. HOW EVER DID YOU NOTICE?
I am single again. I am sad. 
UPDATE 23/10: Ok, things are looking up. I bounce back. Study is going well. Saw Electric Six on friday and drank a whole lot of beer.
UPDATE 23/10: Ok, things are looking up. I bounce back. Study is going well. Saw Electric Six on friday and drank a whole lot of beer.
I went to lunch in Fortuna buffet restaurant the other day. It's in the Sky Tower complex, but not actually up the Sky Tower. So no nice view, as opposed to the Observatory, up in the Sky Tower, with both a wonderful view and a great salad bar. I've decided that watching the masses eat, especially loud, crass people who stuff themselves, makes my skin crawl. I'm such a hermit. I love my friends, and doing the obscure things that I think are awesome (like rpgs, and going swimming and running, and to some gigs - yay Kora!) but apart from that I don't really like The Mob. I think Aristotle and I would agree on this point.
Also, their "vegetarian" selection was piss-poor (parentheses denotes probablity that the ingredients they use are anything but). They didn't have anything vegan apart from sundried tomatoes, and they were probably preserved in lactic acid or something equally tasty. Well arse to Fortuna, I ate all their sundried tomatoes. I wanted to get my $20 worth. Of course, the deliciousness of food-related revenge is rather cheapened by feeling sick for the rest of the day. Note to self: dried fruit and veges are dried. They will swell in my stomach.
Today I had a wonderful discussion with a friend of mine about the pros and cons of Roman vs. Greek history. I'm on the Greek side: their wars were more interesting, as was their culture. The problem being that whilst the squirrels in the smart camp are figuring out which book binding is the most expedient, there are other squirrels, who are basically illiterate, whittling large, sharp, pointy sticks. This is, in my view, the essential problem with history. History is written by the winners, but the winners are often ignorant thugs.
I've been called extreme in my dislike of Roman society.
Phooey.
I am the most pervy lady at the moment. I'm going through one of my man's-brain-in-a-lady's-body months. I'm hitting on straight girls, giving my male friends advice on how to get into straight-curious girls' pants. Traitor to the team. Well I wouldn't be if I had a girl of my own. Cough cough. (See previous entries for why the thing with girl I know fell through. Read: mad woman).
Guilty pleasure: being given the undivided attention of all my geek male friends at the same time, when a few of them have a 'thing' for me. I'm good, I don't mess with their heads, but it's still nice. Indulging in ego...
Also, their "vegetarian" selection was piss-poor (parentheses denotes probablity that the ingredients they use are anything but). They didn't have anything vegan apart from sundried tomatoes, and they were probably preserved in lactic acid or something equally tasty. Well arse to Fortuna, I ate all their sundried tomatoes. I wanted to get my $20 worth. Of course, the deliciousness of food-related revenge is rather cheapened by feeling sick for the rest of the day. Note to self: dried fruit and veges are dried. They will swell in my stomach.
Today I had a wonderful discussion with a friend of mine about the pros and cons of Roman vs. Greek history. I'm on the Greek side: their wars were more interesting, as was their culture. The problem being that whilst the squirrels in the smart camp are figuring out which book binding is the most expedient, there are other squirrels, who are basically illiterate, whittling large, sharp, pointy sticks. This is, in my view, the essential problem with history. History is written by the winners, but the winners are often ignorant thugs.
I've been called extreme in my dislike of Roman society.
Phooey.
I am the most pervy lady at the moment. I'm going through one of my man's-brain-in-a-lady's-body months. I'm hitting on straight girls, giving my male friends advice on how to get into straight-curious girls' pants. Traitor to the team. Well I wouldn't be if I had a girl of my own. Cough cough. (See previous entries for why the thing with girl I know fell through. Read: mad woman).
Guilty pleasure: being given the undivided attention of all my geek male friends at the same time, when a few of them have a 'thing' for me. I'm good, I don't mess with their heads, but it's still nice. Indulging in ego...
I really
REALLY
need to get laid.
Uh.
Not the most inspirational entry in the world. So here's my backup plan:
I'm researching Christ's depiction as a virgin in early Christianity (specifically, the conversionary Christianity preached to the Anglo-Saxons) and the problems (if any) this caused to necessary perceptions of him as a masculine warrior king.
On Sunday night I'm going to the Kiwi Music Cafe (the old Pizza Pizza, up those hellish 1850s stairs) for pizza with my mate Craig. He's put $150 on the tab for vege pizza and many many lots of phoenix drinks. I love him big heap right now. He's 22. That's quite old. In fact, I think I'll call him ancient. My treat.
I'm addicted to rice milk.
My back hurts.
I wake up to the classical station in the morning because Hauraki has far too many ads and the reception for Bfm is crap, but only before 10am. Don't ask me, it's a mystery.
I hate Auckland weather. West Auckland is a sea right now. I swear, I'm making an ark and everything. Knowing my luck the possums would manage to get on it.
REALLY
need to get laid.
Uh.
Not the most inspirational entry in the world. So here's my backup plan:
I'm researching Christ's depiction as a virgin in early Christianity (specifically, the conversionary Christianity preached to the Anglo-Saxons) and the problems (if any) this caused to necessary perceptions of him as a masculine warrior king.
On Sunday night I'm going to the Kiwi Music Cafe (the old Pizza Pizza, up those hellish 1850s stairs) for pizza with my mate Craig. He's put $150 on the tab for vege pizza and many many lots of phoenix drinks. I love him big heap right now. He's 22. That's quite old. In fact, I think I'll call him ancient. My treat.
I'm addicted to rice milk.
My back hurts.
I wake up to the classical station in the morning because Hauraki has far too many ads and the reception for Bfm is crap, but only before 10am. Don't ask me, it's a mystery.
I hate Auckland weather. West Auckland is a sea right now. I swear, I'm making an ark and everything. Knowing my luck the possums would manage to get on it.
