The Comedown

Oh this is awkward. The last time I had a yarn on here was six weeks ago. No one likes awkward silences, they're almost as bad as awkward handshakes...but not quite. Blame the Rugby World Cup. I've been drowning in a sea of car flags, face paint, patriotism and well, wine to be frank.

So we won. That's nice, bloody nice. But now what? You could almost hear a collective sigh as the excitement of the win wore off and we all trudged back to the office on Tuesday. It's like the entire city of Auckland is coming down off an epic high.

Take Friday afternoon at my workplace. As we happen to have a bar on our floor (which never gets old if you were wondering), usually the final working hours of the week are dominated by the sound of bottles clinking and chat, everyone pretending we don't have that much to do and putting real work off until Monday.

This Friday was a different story. The clacking of fingers on keyboards filled the air well into the afternoon and the jukebox pouted from lack of attention. Doesn't bear thinking about what it would have been like if we had lost!

The words 'detox' and 'diet' have all been bandied around the office this week as people start to listen to their livers screaming for a cuppa tea and a lie down. Bank balances have also taken a beating which is why the only spending I'm doing this weekend is time on the couch.

The world cup gave us all an excuse to get loose and now we're left nursing our wounds and pointing the finger. I've heard a lot of “I would have done [insert work assignment, health goal and/or general life obligation] but you know with the world cup and all....” This is generally followed by a nod of acknowledgment as the listener recalls what they haven't got around to for the past six weeks.

Unfortunately for around 15,000 crazy people (including my man) the Auckland marathon took place this morning. Judging by the amount of people in Auckland city last weekend (EVERYONE) I can imagine that there will be some sorry people on that track today. Putting off cleaning the BBQ is one thing but putting off training for a blimmin marathon...let's just say I'd rather eat the mouldy sausages.

What I'm struggling with is this overwhelming feeling of what's next. What else can I possibly use to justify putting off real life for a bit? Maybe we should just call it the Silly Season already. If anyone questions it, blame Countdown for selling advent calendars in October.

I guess there's always an excuse for getting rowdy but I sure will miss using the Rugby World Cup as mine. Here's to a great six weeks and ofcourse, the boys in black.

The Fever

I've got it. No not the glandular, dengue or boogie varieties but rather Rugby World Cup fever. I feel a bit naughty writing those words, like I should have some trademark licensing jazz in a disclaimer somewhere. Then again, I'm getting enough of that at work so this is my chance to break the rules. Watch out, I might start referring to it as RWC “two thousand and eleven” (apparently the world will implode or something if you don't stick to “twenty eleven”).

Pedantic advertising rules aside, I reckon the World Cup has been the best thing to happen to this country all year. Never before have I felt such a buzz around Auckland. It feels like everyone is in a better mood and all about having a good time. I'm living in the moment because I'm too worried at the prospect of living in a city where the entire population is grieving a loss.

I suppose right now it's literally all fun and games. The little guys are 'having a go' and we're all showing up (or at least drinking up) to support them. This afternoon I'm off to Wales vs Samoa...at the pub. Pretty much blew all my funds on tickets to the Opening Match- yeah I feel it deserves caps because it was a-may-zing.

Very few times in a New Zealander's life do you feel patriotic. We have some sort of inbuilt modesty from being the wee fellas down under or something. That night though, watching that little boy in his Canterbury colours running around with the giant glowing rugby ball...I had tears in my eyes.

The whole night was such an experience. Catching the train with half of the city, sitting next to a complete stranger because Tom and I couldn't afford seats together (my neighbour was about 90 and eventually warmed to my wine induced screaming and flag waving) and the walking procession home. Oh yeah and this...

I was officially hooked on the Cup.

I almost had an epic fail at the game though. I may have been a little hungover the day before and stumbling into a $2 dollar shop to collect face paint and other such supplies, I was told that the flag I was clutching was actually Australian. Doh. Clearly my patriotism is a new thing....along with being a rugby fan.

I'm the black sheep of my family when it comes to watching the ruggers. I grew up amazed by what the big fuss was whenever there was a game on. Usually I'd be in another room but could never quite drown out the sound of my mother yelling “HERE'S A GO” like a mad woman every time we approached the try line.

Now I'm happy to say I finally get it. I don't struggle to sit through a game and actually enjoy the action. Last night watching Ireland take the Wallabies to the cleaners (never really got that expression but it seems apt) I was this close to screaming “here's a go” myself.

I think I owe my new found obsession to the electric atmosphere around town. Sure there have been some fails like Auckland's public transport and those paper flags that lined the streets and now clutter the gutter. Oh and don't even get me started on Sean Fitzpatrick driving that 'fist' car. Really though, this is so not a time to dwell on lame things like that. This is a time to get amongst! So go out and get yourself one of those tacky car flags- you know you want to.

Nineties Child

As I was perusing Facebook on Sunday checking out the usual carnage from Saturday night, I noticed some photos from a 25^th birthday party where the theme was the Nineties. It suddenly occurred to me that us twenty somethings are finally at the point where we can get nostalgic about our childhood decade. It also made me excited at the prospect of Eighties parties getting phased out, 'cause as fun as pretending we all like shoulder pads and Cyndi Lauper is...well yeah, it ain't so much after the zillionth time.

 

When I think about certain decades my mind instantly jumps to the music that came out of them. It was an interesting time for my taste personally. I suppose being a tween is the time where you discover what you actually like as opposed to what the charts tell you to like. I remember going from perfecting Spice Girls and Britney dance moves to falling in love with Kurt Cobain and black T-shirts all in the same year. This is why I was inspired to crank my Nineties playlist at the gym today. The playlist was actually born out of my inner Nineties child love for mix tapes...

 

When I first started falling for Tom, for some reason I thought it appropriate to make him these mix tapes. Although, seeing as he didn't actually have cassette player access (and let's face it, 'drag and drop' beats 'rewinding and fast forwarding' in the efficiency stakes) I decided a CD was preferable. Anyway, I'd made a few of these compilations and decided he might appreciate a serving of Nirvana, sprinkled with Blur and seasoned with the Smashing Pumpkins...as you do.

 

Man I enjoyed listening to that today. I really want to host a Nineties party now just so I can bombard people with my favourite tunes from that time. There are plenty.

 

It's not just about the music though, fashion of course plays a huge part in defining a decade. Like me, you may have noticed some Nineties trends creeping back into people's wardrobes in recent times. Fluoro, scrunchies and dare I say it...denim on denim (guilty) all seem to be making a bit of a come back. I just hope that the line is drawn at side ponytails though- let's not get too carried away.

 

Hell, even Nineties toys are making a comeback. Although my idea of a My Little Pony is vastly different from those that are in the shops now. Is it just me or are the new ones creepy as fuck? Why must their eyes be so big? They look like they'd eat Elmo's face off if he looked at them funny.

 

Not even the film industry is safe from this Nineties invasion. I'm quite excited about seeing The Smurfs on the big screen (and secretly hoping it paves the way for a Snorks comeback!) Oh and who would've guessed that one of the highest grossing films for the year 2011 would have been based on that old cartoon about giant robots that transform into trucks and stuff. So disappointed they don't use the 'More than meets the eye' theme in the flicks.

 

Speaking of awesome theme songs- who could forget that green haired spunk Captain Planet?! Do gooders have never been so cool. I'm pretty sure that every Nineties kid has stolen a ring from their Mum and pretended to be a Planeteer...any of them but the gay dude with the 'heart' power that is. Lahaaame.

 

I could go on....this reminiscing stuff is quite fun really. It's amusing that you generally have to wait twenty or so years before it's acceptable to get nostalgic about a decade. I'm just glad that it's finally the Nineties' time to shine. Let's all toast it with a nice cool can of Mirinda.

 

Oh and here's my playlist, just incase you were wondering. Judge me as you see fit...

• Devils Haircut (Beck)
• Cannonball (The Breeders)
• Along comes Mary (Bloodhound gang)
• Beetlebum (Blur)
• When I grow up (Garbage)
• Jump around (House of Pain)
• What's the story morning glory (Oasis)
• Brick (Ben Folds Five)
• Novocaine for the soul (Eels)
• Scooby Snacks (Fun Lovin Criminals)
• Black hole sun (Soundgarden)
• Sunday morning (No Doubt)
• My Friends (Red hot chili peppers)
• Peaches (Presidents of the USA)
• Siva (Smashing Pumpkins)
• My iron lung (Radiohead)
• Moving (Supergrass)
• Heart Shaped box (Nirvana)

The Joys of Pottering

Once again, blogging has taken a back seat to that attention seeking pal of mine- procrastination. This time, I do have an excuse up my sleeve though. The Move. I feel that it deserves capitalisation after the amount of effort I and poor Tom (who is charged with the heavy lifting) have poured into the project.

I'm proud to say that after a week or so of playing tetris with our furniture in the treehut that is our apartment, we are finally settled. Well....almost kindof sortof settled. You see, now that we have our own place it always feels like there's something that could be done around the place. Nothing major really but just little things. The only word for it is pottering.

This past weekend has been spent doing just that. Chucking out stuff, buying new stuff, tidying and so on. Yesterday Tom and I had to refrain from high fiving each other when we scored an 'extreme' dustbuster for nearly half price at Briscoes. Jesus we're only renting, what am I going to be like when we own our own house? Actually I can answer that. I will be my mother.

I'm the daughter of an almost compulsive potterer. Preferable to the compulsive gambler or alcoholic mother ofcourse - pottering is very much a middle class affliction. It never bothered me but I never quite understood it. Sunday afternoons spent vacuuming and putting stuff (mostly mine and my brother's stuff) back in it's rightful place. It seemed mad that she wouldn't also want to veg on the couch with an assortment of snacks. To be fair I suppose she hadn't mixed Baileys, red wine and whatever other alcohol we could get our hands on as teens the night before. Though even if she did have a big night, Mum would be up without fail bright and early the following morning, putting everything back where it should go.

It's strangely satisfying rattling around your own place. So much so that I chose Murder Burger (amazing Ponsonby burger joint) and the couch over having a life on Saturday night. I woke up at 8am this morning with an urge to put on a load of towels and wash the new purchases from Briscoes before putting them away.

Most Sunday mornings I wake up with an urge of another kind and it's not pleasant. It was quite a welcome change.

This pottering business is proof that we are selfish beings. I never had this kind of compulsion when flatting with others. My attitude was much more along the lines of 'why should I clean the bathroom when so and so hasn't done it for weeks?' I suppose you're a lot more tolerant of the person you share a bed with so when it's only the two of you then there's none of that. Also I have one of those very rare beings...a clean and tidy (most of the time) male.

So now that we've unpacked and the place is looking relatively presentable, my mind is set on entertaining. I guess you could call it the fruits of our labour, having mates over to “ooh” and “aah” over our pottering efforts. And let's be honest, we NEED some sort of social interaction if we're getting excited about dustbusters.

Till next time then, just off to organise the linen cupboard...

Playing House

It's Saturday night and I'm on the couch in my incredibly sexy pac man hoody and jeans special. To make the extent of my nana evening even clearer, it's 10.15 and I've already brushed my teeth. Yeah, pretty rock n roll. You see nowadays I really struggle to go out two nights in a row. From the moment I woke up dry mouthed and weary this morning (skipping dinner for office drinks on a Friday will do that to you) I haven't been able to stop thinking about the immense joy that a crap TV binge followed by a pizza induced coma would bring. Bliss.

Speaking of bliss, I have some news of the domestic bliss variety. Or at least I hope it will be bliss. Tom and I are moving into our own place. I'm calling it 'playing house' for a couple of reasons. The first being that we are both new to the concept and the second because our new apartment is about the size of a treehut. Oh wow, I just got excited about the prospect of being able to make huts in the lounge. FUN. That's why people move in together right? So no one else gets to see how lame you are?

Lucky none of my flatmates are home this evening (duh, because it's Saturday) to witness my sloth like movements. Also lucky for them that soon they won't have to put up with my incredibly loud movements after a big night. I've been told that for a rather small person I have a rare talent for sounding much like a herd of elephants upon entering the flat.

That's the beauty of shacking up isn't it? You find a person who is so blinded by love that they accept all your flaws and agree to put up with them on a daily basis. Tom is a brave man. I must admit I'm a little bit nervous but mainly just excited.

Flatting can be great but after almost eight years I feel like the time is right to move on. Our current flatmates are awesome but you never know who you could be living with in a year's time. I feel like I've had my fair share of duds. Once a guy gave me the silent treatment for a week for making toast loudly in the wee smalls of Sunday morning. I know, how do I live with myself? Then there was the girl who changed boyfriends as often as her undies. One fateful night a jilted lover broke into her room and proceeded to start a brawl with the newest flavour of the week. The cops were called and knew her by name. That was an eye opener.

I'm also really excited because Tom, a notorious hoarder, has agreed to cull some of his posessions in aid of the move. This is BIG for him. I'm very touched by his commitment to the cause and it's a sacrifice that shows me he is really into the idea of living with me and just me (insert “Awww” here).

So now we can look forward to packing up our lives and playing tetris with our furniture all while trying not to kill each other. I've been told by others who are doing it already that 'I won't know myself' once we're settled and that I won't look back. I just hope that Tom's ok with knowing myself, inside and out because let's face it, we're all a little bit annoying....especially in close proximity.

I guess life is about finding that person who will put up with your annoying bits and if you're lucky, they might even make huts in the lounge with you.

Could use one of these signs for the new place.

Hobby Horse

Sorry for the neglect, I've been off pursuing extracurricular activities. That’s something I haven't said before. Doing anything more than the status quo was never my strong point at school or uni, namely because I can't catch a ball to save my life and am about as musically talented as Rebecca Black.

Now though at the ripe ole age of twenty five, I find that having a hobby keeps me sane. Life is a little like Groundhog day at the moment (minus the comedic talents of Bill Murray) so having something to break the work, eat, gym (sometimes),sleep routine is essential. So what have I been doing? Um this is awkward…writing. It’s like I’ve been cheating on the blog but this writing is being assessed by a tutor and comes with a deadline so there’s a little more urgency to keep it up.

Last year I signed up for a magazine journalism course which I have been completing at a leisurely pace. I figure that this is a hobby so it shouldn’t feel like work, I write when I feel like it, so I also do the assignments when I feel like it. Long story short I’ve arsed around for a while but am now getting stuck in.

I’m in the midst of writing an article about blogging actually so when I said I felt like I was cheating at least I’m keeping it in the family…that’s probably worse when you think about it. Moving right along…

Today I am a bit chuffed with myself- I had my first proper interview for the article I’m writing. The subject was Jane Yee who is a fantastic blogger (she’s won awards and stuff) and a very cool lady. You can check out her work at www.picnicbythemotorway.com. She was also on the telly once upon a time (remember M2?) so I may have been a tad starstruck. Why is it that people you see on TV are so much tinier in person?

Despite the shaky hands and awkward fidgeting with the recording device- iVan the iPhone- I think it went pretty well. So tonight I’m going to get into some transcribing. I’m quietly terrified that the audio will somehow vanish into the ether. As trusty as iVan is, I’ve seen what autocorrect can do so I don’t have one hundred percent faith in him.

Hell, I’m so motivated at the moment that I even went to the library to do some research today- I know what you’re thinking and yes thankyou I did actually do some real work today. I guess I’ve just gotten a second wind on the project due to a lack of anything else exciting on the horizon.

I reckon having a hobby is the best way to crawl your way out of a life rut and let’s be honest, twenty somethings are quite prone to falling into those. I think in our twenties we all go through an adjustment period where we have to come to grips with the monotony of settling into full time work. This blog actually helped me out of a rut I was in last year and the journalism course is just another challenge to keep me occupied.

So if you have the Groundhog day feeling, I suggest taking up a hobby. Make sure it's something that will inspire, fulfil and challenge you to step out of your comfort zone- you might even discover your true calling in life.

And hey if that doesn’t work out, you can always fill the rut with angry cross stitch instead…

Going it alone

If there's one thing you can lose sight of when in a relationship it's appreciating your own company- that and whose black socks are whose. Seriously annoying when you realise you're wearing one of your socks and one baggy man sock. Back to the bit about doing stuff on your own though. I am all about spending quality time with nothing but the Kardashians and some calorific food for company, what I struggle with though is doing stuff on my own in public.

I know a few people who frequent the movies on their own which isn't so bad because it's dark (not that I've EVER tried it mind you) but what about having a couple drinks or even a whole dinner on your own? I just don't know if I could do it. Although, I did come close the other night. Work had a spare ticket to the show Walking with Dinosaurs. Free food, free booze and mint seats. There was just one thing missing- a second ticket. I was offered the pass after a few other more important (and like minded people it seems) had already declined. It took some thinking but the little girl inside me who was mildly obsessed with Jurassic Park in the nineties told me to suck it up for a change.

So suck it up I did...after emailing the girl who gave me the ticket several times to see if anyone had backed out at the last minute. I've been to a few client functions and usually the turn out rate is 80% at best. It seems Dinosaurs really get people off their asses though. Everyone came. So there I was, out on my own, at a family show about reptiles. Awesome.

You know what though, it actually was awesome. I made an effort to speak to every client and their family. Ofcourse it helped that I had a cheeky Pinot on hand to dull the usual pain that small talk incurs but still, this was a big step for me! Dinner was a tad awkward as I couldn't decide which table to sit at. Instead I pulled up a bar stool and sat by myself. Cue constant fiddling on phone and avoiding eye contact with everyone else. This was followed by another big moment where I volunteered to be seated first. I figured one of the ten or so people coming with me would be sitting on either side of me but no. I had to endure a few excruciating minutes of sitting in a seat surrounded by empties.

At this point, you're probably in one of two camps. You're either thinking I should grow the hell up or that you too would be rummaging in your bag or pretending to text. I really do have a lot of respect for those of you in the first group and don't worry, I am well aware of how pathetic this all sounds. I'm confident though that this is something that I'll grow out of. Surely this is simply a remnant from my teenage years spent worrying about what everyone else thinks of me.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that one day I'll wake up and won't care anymore. Perhaps when my life is consumed by a family demanding every waking moment of my time then I won't think twice about a solo vino down the local. Or maybe I'll only be able to look back and wish that I'd spent more time actually enjoying 'Me time' when I had the chance. I'm thinking probably the latter.

So here's to indulging in guilty pleasures without the guilt because there's only yourself to judge. Yes, I'll have a large popcorn, boysenberry choc top and one ticket to The Smurfs in 3D please.