There was one fly or flies (pun intended) in the ointment on the weekend away.
These particular flies were thirsty little sandflies that latched onto my bare sweaty ankles when I returned from my run and sat outside waiting for my face to turn from deep purple to cerise pink.
I am so itchy if someone put a box jellyfish in front of me I'd give it a big kiss in the hopes that the pain would distract me from the itching.
I will have no skin on my ankles by the end of tomorrow.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Weekend Away
I just had the best weekend. 48 hours of chilled out chilledness. Beach side setting and nine individuals doing just exactly what they wanted, nothing more and nothing less. I read one and a half books, drank a variety of wines and ate about three kilos of cheese with people who were funny and serious and lively and calm and drunk and sober and cool cool cool in all the right quantities... pretty much my dream weekend.
So now I'm already planning the next one. Labour Day in the Corromandel. This one will be with my sis, Fiona, and Aine who have been travelling around South America and having a ball by all accounts. And hopefully a representitive portion of the crew from this weekend.
So now I'm already planning the next one. Labour Day in the Corromandel. This one will be with my sis, Fiona, and Aine who have been travelling around South America and having a ball by all accounts. And hopefully a representitive portion of the crew from this weekend.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Life and Death
My oldest cat, Puck, has been very sick. In a 'could have died' kind of way. I won't disgust you with the details but he spent seven days at the vets with a catheter and a drip, had to have an operation and will be on a special diet for the rest of his life.
But basically what it amounted to was a urinary tract infection. Which is a bigger deal for cats than it is for humans but it still shouldn't be a terminal illness. and in Puck's case it wasn't - for two reasons.
1. I took him to the vet in time (it can kill cats in three to six days)
2. I could afford to pay for the treatment he needed.
Now here's the thing. Point one is down to the owner spotting the issue and acting in time. there are a million reason why that might or might not happen. You're away for the weekend and the neighbour doesn't notice when he/she pops into feed them, the vets are closed for the long weekend and you're pretty sure it can wait etc etc.
But point 2... Now I understand if an animal is in a lot of pain with something major like a serious accident or a terminal illness. But this is something that could be easily fixed with no long term effects.. as long as you have a spare $1000 or so.
What if I didn't?
Would the vet have put down an otherwise healthy animal?
Does anyone know?
But basically what it amounted to was a urinary tract infection. Which is a bigger deal for cats than it is for humans but it still shouldn't be a terminal illness. and in Puck's case it wasn't - for two reasons.
1. I took him to the vet in time (it can kill cats in three to six days)
2. I could afford to pay for the treatment he needed.
Now here's the thing. Point one is down to the owner spotting the issue and acting in time. there are a million reason why that might or might not happen. You're away for the weekend and the neighbour doesn't notice when he/she pops into feed them, the vets are closed for the long weekend and you're pretty sure it can wait etc etc.
But point 2... Now I understand if an animal is in a lot of pain with something major like a serious accident or a terminal illness. But this is something that could be easily fixed with no long term effects.. as long as you have a spare $1000 or so.
What if I didn't?
Would the vet have put down an otherwise healthy animal?
Does anyone know?
Friday, August 08, 2008
Car list
If a man's home is his castle, his car is his kingdom.
I am now a Commuter. And in my daily commute I see people, sitting in traffic doing all sorts of things in their cars. Not the sorts of things they would do just a metre further away on the footpath walking along at the same speed as the commuting car.
Once people are in the car, they feel like they are invisible to others. Or at least the act that way. They are completely, utterly, comfortable doing what they would if they were entirely alone. Or at least just with the other people in the car with them at the time.
Below is a list of just some of the things I have seen people doing in their car. I very much doubt many of them would feel comfortable doing these things walking up the street.
Blatantly checking themselves out in the mirror
Putting on makeup
Fighting with their family
Singing (and emoting) at the top of their voice
Shaving
Picking their nose
Eating their snot
Squeezing their spots
Shouting at their kids
Moshing
Plucking their eyebrows
Reading the paper
Gesticulating at other motorists
Filing their nails
Crying
I am now a Commuter. And in my daily commute I see people, sitting in traffic doing all sorts of things in their cars. Not the sorts of things they would do just a metre further away on the footpath walking along at the same speed as the commuting car.
Once people are in the car, they feel like they are invisible to others. Or at least the act that way. They are completely, utterly, comfortable doing what they would if they were entirely alone. Or at least just with the other people in the car with them at the time.
Below is a list of just some of the things I have seen people doing in their car. I very much doubt many of them would feel comfortable doing these things walking up the street.
Blatantly checking themselves out in the mirror
Putting on makeup
Fighting with their family
Singing (and emoting) at the top of their voice
Shaving
Picking their nose
Eating their snot
Squeezing their spots
Shouting at their kids
Moshing
Plucking their eyebrows
Reading the paper
Gesticulating at other motorists
Filing their nails
Crying
Friday, August 01, 2008
Company car
I have a company car. This is new to me. I'm not sure what to do about petrol and other nonsense relating to that.
What I am sure about is that when something happens to it or a staff member asks to borrow it you're guaranteed to feel like more of a dick and generally dodgy in terms of cleanliness, mileage and actually just driving it than if you were just driving your own car.
So it was with conflicted emotions that I decided to pop into the car wash on Monday on my way to work to get it cleaned. You see it was VERY dirty. With the recent storms and the fact that I rarely get to a car wash, it's just generally filthy. And I'd had an early morning meeting on my side of the city (which is the opposite side of the city to where I work) at 9.00. So my working day had started an hour later than it generally does and I felt lke a bit of a skiver to be stopping to get my car washed as opposed to going straight into the office.
But as mentioned the car was FILTHY so I stopped about 200 metres form the office in a BP station to get their very finest, 'premium wash' or 'exclusive wash' or 'thorough cleaning' or whatever the $11 wash is called.
I was sitting there, aerial retracted, windows shut, side mirrors folded into the body of the car; feeling like really I should be at work and hoping that no one from the office happened by. I generally skip lunch and work on average two to four hours a day more than my contract requires so I have NO reason to feel this way, but that's how I was feeling.
So it was with some horror that I witnessed the brushy, swisher part of the car wash sucking one of my wind screen wipers out of it's docking station where it was safely nestled and straight up into a 90 degree angel form the bonnet, snapping the wiper blade.
But it wasn't over yet. There was still the drier. In the pass from from to back it sensed the wiper and passed up over it. I could hear it returning and all I could do was mentally will it to sense it again and raise up over it for a second time.
It didn't.
In fact it steamed right through and snapped the wiper of at its (2cm thick) base.
Brilliant.
So instead of surreptitiously washing my car, I had to declare my inappropriate car cleaning during work time to a slew of people in the office in order to lodge an insurance claim and get a new wiper shipped from Japan for my car (it's yet to arrive so the pain has only just begun).
Outstanding
What I am sure about is that when something happens to it or a staff member asks to borrow it you're guaranteed to feel like more of a dick and generally dodgy in terms of cleanliness, mileage and actually just driving it than if you were just driving your own car.
So it was with conflicted emotions that I decided to pop into the car wash on Monday on my way to work to get it cleaned. You see it was VERY dirty. With the recent storms and the fact that I rarely get to a car wash, it's just generally filthy. And I'd had an early morning meeting on my side of the city (which is the opposite side of the city to where I work) at 9.00. So my working day had started an hour later than it generally does and I felt lke a bit of a skiver to be stopping to get my car washed as opposed to going straight into the office.
But as mentioned the car was FILTHY so I stopped about 200 metres form the office in a BP station to get their very finest, 'premium wash' or 'exclusive wash' or 'thorough cleaning' or whatever the $11 wash is called.
I was sitting there, aerial retracted, windows shut, side mirrors folded into the body of the car; feeling like really I should be at work and hoping that no one from the office happened by. I generally skip lunch and work on average two to four hours a day more than my contract requires so I have NO reason to feel this way, but that's how I was feeling.
So it was with some horror that I witnessed the brushy, swisher part of the car wash sucking one of my wind screen wipers out of it's docking station where it was safely nestled and straight up into a 90 degree angel form the bonnet, snapping the wiper blade.
But it wasn't over yet. There was still the drier. In the pass from from to back it sensed the wiper and passed up over it. I could hear it returning and all I could do was mentally will it to sense it again and raise up over it for a second time.
It didn't.
In fact it steamed right through and snapped the wiper of at its (2cm thick) base.
Brilliant.
So instead of surreptitiously washing my car, I had to declare my inappropriate car cleaning during work time to a slew of people in the office in order to lodge an insurance claim and get a new wiper shipped from Japan for my car (it's yet to arrive so the pain has only just begun).
Outstanding
Sunday, July 27, 2008
It's endless
Working for a publishing company has many many benefits. The fact that almost everyone can recommend at least ten great books if you're stuck, getting to market something you are passionate about (not just something you believe in or think is quite good really), working with and for and on behalf of creative, clever, interesting people, the smell of books as you walk through the warehouse from your car, the company car that comes with my job isn't bad actually. But it really is all about the books.
There is one possible downside. The books are endless. I'm going through a phase that I'm sure everyone does before you finally shrug your mental shoulders and come to terms with the fact that you can't ever read everything. That no matter how hard you try, no matter how long you read, no matter what other things you sacrifice to allow time for another couple of chapters, there will always be more books to read. There will be classics you won't get to and prize winners you'll have to skip and entire catalogues by single authors that you'll just have to pass up.
*SHUDDER*
And I have to be very careful where this takes me. You see my very favourite thing in the world is reading. And it's not like my very favourite food in the world being Thai. You see I say I could just eat Thai food for the rest of my life. But I'm probably lying. I could probably eat it for a couple of months and then, eventually, I'd really want something with cheese in it. Or olives. Or a even a slice of toast.
But reading- that I could do incessantly, interminably. For. Ever.
So when someone asks me to do anything outside of work I have to resist the urge to use the amount of reading I need to do for work as an excuse to just read and read and read. And it would be a perfectly valid excuse not to do something considering there's about 300 new titles every month, excluding other publishers and the massive, infinite back list of the last few thousand years of written word.
But while I love love love to read I would hate hate hate to have no friends left to discuss the books with and recommend them to. And also, obviously, my friends are lovely.
But it's tempting.
And then you add in that it's winter. And take into account that Alex The Invalid is staying with me having been knocked off his bike and broken his ankle. I have the perfect trio of excuses to spend this weekend inside with a selection of books.
So here I am. Updating my blog. Doing something proactive about communicating wiht the outside world.
Hi world.
Need any books?
There is one possible downside. The books are endless. I'm going through a phase that I'm sure everyone does before you finally shrug your mental shoulders and come to terms with the fact that you can't ever read everything. That no matter how hard you try, no matter how long you read, no matter what other things you sacrifice to allow time for another couple of chapters, there will always be more books to read. There will be classics you won't get to and prize winners you'll have to skip and entire catalogues by single authors that you'll just have to pass up.
*SHUDDER*
And I have to be very careful where this takes me. You see my very favourite thing in the world is reading. And it's not like my very favourite food in the world being Thai. You see I say I could just eat Thai food for the rest of my life. But I'm probably lying. I could probably eat it for a couple of months and then, eventually, I'd really want something with cheese in it. Or olives. Or a even a slice of toast.
But reading- that I could do incessantly, interminably. For. Ever.
So when someone asks me to do anything outside of work I have to resist the urge to use the amount of reading I need to do for work as an excuse to just read and read and read. And it would be a perfectly valid excuse not to do something considering there's about 300 new titles every month, excluding other publishers and the massive, infinite back list of the last few thousand years of written word.
But while I love love love to read I would hate hate hate to have no friends left to discuss the books with and recommend them to. And also, obviously, my friends are lovely.
But it's tempting.
And then you add in that it's winter. And take into account that Alex The Invalid is staying with me having been knocked off his bike and broken his ankle. I have the perfect trio of excuses to spend this weekend inside with a selection of books.
So here I am. Updating my blog. Doing something proactive about communicating wiht the outside world.
Hi world.
Need any books?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
GOOD morning
I work on The North Shore of Auckland City now so very day I cross the harbour bridge. Most mornings the sun is just coming up over rangitoto and glistening on the water. Vury purty.
And today as I approached the harbour bridge it happened. Someone has done a Beastie Boys A team theme tune mash up! I LOVE it. Great song to drive over the bridge to. I just about blew the speakers in my car.
And today as I approached the harbour bridge it happened. Someone has done a Beastie Boys A team theme tune mash up! I LOVE it. Great song to drive over the bridge to. I just about blew the speakers in my car.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Epiphany
I put my make up on in the car on my way to work. It started off as a thing I would do at traffic lights, then became something I do while I'm waiting at intersections or even drifting along in traffic.
Not a good habit I know.
Two days ago I was doing the drifty thing and a cyclist came up on the inside of me in the bycycle lane and gestured fro me to move back into my own lane.
Fair enough I thought. But I also thought about the fact that I hadn't noticed her up to the point she was gesturing at me.
20 metres up the road someone turned left without looking and knocked her off her bike.
Now she was shaken but not hurt and her bike looked ok. But I had one of those moments when you see someone do something terrible and you realise it was pure, blind, stupid luck that it wasn't you.
No more drifty makeup for me.
Not a good habit I know.
Two days ago I was doing the drifty thing and a cyclist came up on the inside of me in the bycycle lane and gestured fro me to move back into my own lane.
Fair enough I thought. But I also thought about the fact that I hadn't noticed her up to the point she was gesturing at me.
20 metres up the road someone turned left without looking and knocked her off her bike.
Now she was shaken but not hurt and her bike looked ok. But I had one of those moments when you see someone do something terrible and you realise it was pure, blind, stupid luck that it wasn't you.
No more drifty makeup for me.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
New Job
I have a new job.
It is my dream job.
It is marketing manager for a publishing company.
I am very happy about my new job.
I won't speak about it here on this blog but I wanted it on record
That I have my dream job.
It is my dream job.
It is marketing manager for a publishing company.
I am very happy about my new job.
I won't speak about it here on this blog but I wanted it on record
That I have my dream job.
Something annoying
I spell check my blogs and then I republish but it doesn't pick up the amends. As a result my typos make me look semi literate.
any ideas?
any ideas?
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
10 things my cats do that drive me nuts but that I tell as fond stories- now via my blog
1. Pinot brings in large live insects and sets them free in my bedroom while I am trying to sleep, Cicadas in distress and trying to find refuge under the covers with you are difficult to ignore.
2. Puck comes into the house making the longest, saddest mewls you'll ever hear and when you approach him to comfort him he runs and hides under a table so that you can't get to him as if his recurring experience is being beaten with a clothes hanger by you.
3. Pinot goes out through the cat flap, around to the front on the flat and scrabbles on the window until you let her in through the human door. Repeatedly. She also scrabbles on the full length mirror while I'm asleep making a continuos knocking sound against the wall and waking the entire house.
4. Puck waits until you're sitting comfortably, sidles up to you and lets you pat him for a second before moving five centemetres out of reach and sitting there expectently awaiting pats and scratchings.
5. Pinot knocks glasses of water off the table, deliberatly spilling their contents onto the carpet as she prefers carpet water to water that's in her bowl. She'll also do this with empty glasses just to make her point.
6. Puck reacts to the sound of the can opener EVERY SINLGE TIME and whines at you until you give him something. The only thing I ever give him that involves a tin opener is tuna and more often I'm opening chickpeas or beans or something else but he still whines.
7. Pinot waits until she can sense you're finally going to brave the day and get out of bed in just one more minute before climbing onto your chest and going fast asleep instantly.
8. Puck eats Pinot's food.
9. Pinot gets your attention by being deliberatly naughty. This may be the glass of water trick or could involve jumping up on the dining room table, kitchen counter or eating off your plate. The attention must involve a combination of shouting and moving towards her flapping your arms to encourage her to desist. Temporarily.
10. Puck, who is way less naughty than Pinot, reacts as if he's being told off when actually I'm shouting at Pinot about any one of the above things.
2. Puck comes into the house making the longest, saddest mewls you'll ever hear and when you approach him to comfort him he runs and hides under a table so that you can't get to him as if his recurring experience is being beaten with a clothes hanger by you.
3. Pinot goes out through the cat flap, around to the front on the flat and scrabbles on the window until you let her in through the human door. Repeatedly. She also scrabbles on the full length mirror while I'm asleep making a continuos knocking sound against the wall and waking the entire house.
4. Puck waits until you're sitting comfortably, sidles up to you and lets you pat him for a second before moving five centemetres out of reach and sitting there expectently awaiting pats and scratchings.
5. Pinot knocks glasses of water off the table, deliberatly spilling their contents onto the carpet as she prefers carpet water to water that's in her bowl. She'll also do this with empty glasses just to make her point.
6. Puck reacts to the sound of the can opener EVERY SINLGE TIME and whines at you until you give him something. The only thing I ever give him that involves a tin opener is tuna and more often I'm opening chickpeas or beans or something else but he still whines.
7. Pinot waits until she can sense you're finally going to brave the day and get out of bed in just one more minute before climbing onto your chest and going fast asleep instantly.
8. Puck eats Pinot's food.
9. Pinot gets your attention by being deliberatly naughty. This may be the glass of water trick or could involve jumping up on the dining room table, kitchen counter or eating off your plate. The attention must involve a combination of shouting and moving towards her flapping your arms to encourage her to desist. Temporarily.
10. Puck, who is way less naughty than Pinot, reacts as if he's being told off when actually I'm shouting at Pinot about any one of the above things.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Domesticity
The thing about being a grown up is that an awful lot of the stuff that you're supposed to allocate time to is fucking boring.
A case in point is the ongoing saga of the washing machine. Here it is in synospis
1. For a variety of reasons, my washing machine has been at a friend's house for about two years.
2. I reclaimed it in about August of last year
3. In December it was nicked (our laundry was outdoors)
4. I put in an insurance claim
5. They decided I was dodgy and made me spend hours making phone calls, filling in forms, visiting police stations and talking to 'assessors' (investigators).
6. I was background checked for criminal record, bad debts and they even had a look at my online auction account to make sure I wasn't coincidentally selling a washing machine
7. Eventually they paid out about half what I had spent including interest on the loan repayments and mechanical breakdown insurance
8. The Flat (me and Claire) bought a second one online
9. While I was away it leaked, flooded the cupboard and short circuted the plug socket
10. We got that fixed... and just last week it broke down completely
11. I got a rental today after waiting three hours for the fuckers to deliver it
12. It's leaked all over the cupboard but luckily we haven't fixed the plug in there so at least that didn't repeat.
So there you are. It's all so fucking mundane and yet I reckon I've spent about 30 hours or so in the last four months on all of the many washing machines I've had in my life recently. And I don't even have a working one yet
30 hours? But that's not very long is it? Well it's more time than I've spent on the following in the same time span:
1. Attending the theatre
2. Watching DVDs
3. Catching up with several of my close friends
4. Skyping
5. Browsing in book shops
6. Taking lunch breaks
7. Going to the cinema
8. Doing voluntary work
9. Drinking cocktails
10. Trying on new shoes
11. Reading poetry
12. Sleeping in
I would much rather be doing any of the latter list but bloody grown up shite always gets in the way.
Maybe I should be like the Queen and only wear my clothes once? That could be solution. But for now I have no clean sports socks to run in tomorrow and that makes me ANGRY.
A case in point is the ongoing saga of the washing machine. Here it is in synospis
1. For a variety of reasons, my washing machine has been at a friend's house for about two years.
2. I reclaimed it in about August of last year
3. In December it was nicked (our laundry was outdoors)
4. I put in an insurance claim
5. They decided I was dodgy and made me spend hours making phone calls, filling in forms, visiting police stations and talking to 'assessors' (investigators).
6. I was background checked for criminal record, bad debts and they even had a look at my online auction account to make sure I wasn't coincidentally selling a washing machine
7. Eventually they paid out about half what I had spent including interest on the loan repayments and mechanical breakdown insurance
8. The Flat (me and Claire) bought a second one online
9. While I was away it leaked, flooded the cupboard and short circuted the plug socket
10. We got that fixed... and just last week it broke down completely
11. I got a rental today after waiting three hours for the fuckers to deliver it
12. It's leaked all over the cupboard but luckily we haven't fixed the plug in there so at least that didn't repeat.
So there you are. It's all so fucking mundane and yet I reckon I've spent about 30 hours or so in the last four months on all of the many washing machines I've had in my life recently. And I don't even have a working one yet
30 hours? But that's not very long is it? Well it's more time than I've spent on the following in the same time span:
1. Attending the theatre
2. Watching DVDs
3. Catching up with several of my close friends
4. Skyping
5. Browsing in book shops
6. Taking lunch breaks
7. Going to the cinema
8. Doing voluntary work
9. Drinking cocktails
10. Trying on new shoes
11. Reading poetry
12. Sleeping in
I would much rather be doing any of the latter list but bloody grown up shite always gets in the way.
Maybe I should be like the Queen and only wear my clothes once? That could be solution. But for now I have no clean sports socks to run in tomorrow and that makes me ANGRY.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
From Detox to Retox
I have been on detox. No refined sugar, no caffeine, no booze.
No booze?
Yes that's right. But I have had a number of scheduled 'breaks' on the booze front. I've had a few weekends away, some parties and the occassional other celebration where I thought it would be churlish to hot have a few shandies. Or a bottle of wine.
But all very well behaved and waking up without the taste of badgers arse in your mouth.
And then we hit Good Friday. See I was out for a few drinks on Thursday night and it all got away from me a bit. Suddenly they were flashing the lights and there was going to be no alcohol available for the next 24 hours.
I PANICKED.
And so I talked the people I was out with into coming back to mine where I had an unopened bottle of Tequila and an unopened bottle of Jaegermeister. Some of them required minimal persuasion.
The last thing I remember is the first shot of Tequila. And then it was waking up on the couch, covered in bruises and still absolutely hammered.
And then I found myself in a car on the way to Bluesfest in the Corromandel with eight people I had never met and two people I hadn't seen for six months. This was absolutely not my plan for the weekend and somewhat unexpected.
It was an excellent weekend though.
Drinking is great.
No booze?
Yes that's right. But I have had a number of scheduled 'breaks' on the booze front. I've had a few weekends away, some parties and the occassional other celebration where I thought it would be churlish to hot have a few shandies. Or a bottle of wine.
But all very well behaved and waking up without the taste of badgers arse in your mouth.
And then we hit Good Friday. See I was out for a few drinks on Thursday night and it all got away from me a bit. Suddenly they were flashing the lights and there was going to be no alcohol available for the next 24 hours.
I PANICKED.
And so I talked the people I was out with into coming back to mine where I had an unopened bottle of Tequila and an unopened bottle of Jaegermeister. Some of them required minimal persuasion.
The last thing I remember is the first shot of Tequila. And then it was waking up on the couch, covered in bruises and still absolutely hammered.
And then I found myself in a car on the way to Bluesfest in the Corromandel with eight people I had never met and two people I hadn't seen for six months. This was absolutely not my plan for the weekend and somewhat unexpected.
It was an excellent weekend though.
Drinking is great.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Why I listen to Mikey Havoc's breakfast show on bFM
I love Mikey Havoc. He's the shit. And Jose who reads the news is pretty damn good too. But today they were even better.
You see it was 8.30 and time for the news headlines. The bit that gets you all wamred up for the actual news at 9.00. Exciting.
This is exactly, verbatim how it went:
Jose: Today Dan Quail, American Vice President commented on the fifth anniversary of the invasion or Iraq, "We are still committed to blah blah blah, whatever"
Mikey (firstly in a sarcastic, sicophantic high pitched tone but towards the end getting genuininely irate): Oh thank you Mr Quail, you obviously have our best interests at heart, thank you, you reptillian, shapeshifter son of a bitch.
Fan. Fucking. TASTIC.
You see it was 8.30 and time for the news headlines. The bit that gets you all wamred up for the actual news at 9.00. Exciting.
This is exactly, verbatim how it went:
Jose: Today Dan Quail, American Vice President commented on the fifth anniversary of the invasion or Iraq, "We are still committed to blah blah blah, whatever"
Mikey (firstly in a sarcastic, sicophantic high pitched tone but towards the end getting genuininely irate): Oh thank you Mr Quail, you obviously have our best interests at heart, thank you, you reptillian, shapeshifter son of a bitch.
Fan. Fucking. TASTIC.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Post travel blues
So I've been home for a couple of months now and I've got back into 'things'. Work, pets, friends, doing housework etc.
Now this is obviously stating the obvious, but I REALLY REALLY miss travelling. In a tangible, physical yearning kind of way. It's not about being on holiday. It's not about not loving NZ. It's certainly not taht I can't wait to get away from friends and colleagues in this country, It's that I just want to be on the road again. Indefinitely. Is that so unreasonable?
I have had a number of thoughts about how this might be achieved (clearly I've been giving it a lot of thought). I could look for a job that will involve lots of travel. I could pack everything up and volunteer overseas. There's never going to be a better time to do it - single, relatively debt free, no kids. Well......
Except for Puck and Pinot.
And that's what's keeping me here. I would feel like I was abandoning my cats. I'm sure i could find a loving temporary home with someone who they know and trust (possibly Alex) but is that really good enough?
Poo. I really want to travel.
Now this is obviously stating the obvious, but I REALLY REALLY miss travelling. In a tangible, physical yearning kind of way. It's not about being on holiday. It's not about not loving NZ. It's certainly not taht I can't wait to get away from friends and colleagues in this country, It's that I just want to be on the road again. Indefinitely. Is that so unreasonable?
I have had a number of thoughts about how this might be achieved (clearly I've been giving it a lot of thought). I could look for a job that will involve lots of travel. I could pack everything up and volunteer overseas. There's never going to be a better time to do it - single, relatively debt free, no kids. Well......
Except for Puck and Pinot.
And that's what's keeping me here. I would feel like I was abandoning my cats. I'm sure i could find a loving temporary home with someone who they know and trust (possibly Alex) but is that really good enough?
Poo. I really want to travel.
Monday, February 18, 2008
LAX II
Sorry it's taken so long... but here goes.
Where was I? Oh yes. Was planning to buy presents and then this happened.
I got in the queue for immigration. An hour later I was still in the queue for immigration. What was most frustrating about this was that they kept opening new queues but taking the people from the BACK of our queue over to the new queue. Which would then get procesed super fast while we stayed in our S.L.O.W. queue. So the Jamaican lady in front of me had a shout at the immigration steward who was moving people around with no regard to who had been there first etc. She pointed out that 'It's like a freeway. You never know which lane is going to move faster."
Philosophical.
No one else seemed to be philosophical about it though and pretty soon this lady was getting dogs abuse. At this point, I had been in the queue for two hours and my concern had moved from not having time to shop to missing my connecting flight. I spoke to the Aristotle of US Immigration and she told me that I should have told her when I first got to the queue that I had a flight to catch. I pointed out that two hours ago and fifteenth in the queue I thought I had plenty of time to spare. "I'll see what I can do." she said.
Apparently what she could do was to move herself to work on another queue. That queue was far enough away that I would have to leave my queue and lose my place to go and talk to her again. Or shriek at her and probably take 65 bullets to the face by trigger happy yank wank guards.
Here's a sugestion LAX- since you insist on people who don't even want to enter you're shitty, bullying, capitalist pig dog country clearing immigration, how about you have seperate queues for those people who have connecting flights. It's hardly a giant mental leap.
So EVENTUALLY I cleared immigration and I still had to collect my luggage, clear customs, check in, clear security and board. My flight was boarding in twenty minutes. By the time I got to security my flight was boarding. The line was (Now I know I'm prone to a bit of exaggeration but this is the God's honest truth) 250 metres long. I whiped past the line to the security guard, certain that I could skip ahead as my flight was boarding. The security guard looked exactly like Adam Sandler wold if he was a couple of stone heavier.
I fucking hate Adam Sandler. The conversation went like this:
Lorraine: (A bit breathless after sprinting quite a bit, but smiling and friendly) My flight is boarding now
Fat Adam Sandler (FAD): (Smiling delightedly with a vacant look in his eye) Uh
Lorraine:( in a 'oh sorry, it's my accent, you didn't understand me' tone) My Flight. It's boarding now.
FAD: (Still DElighted with himself and nodding) Uh Uh.
Lorraine: So can I go through please?
FAD: Nope
Now here's what I should have said in order to make my point that I am a polite if somewhat stressed passenger and he is not being as helpful as I'm sure he is encouraged to be by his supervisor:
"Oh I understand now, See when you said, "Uh" I just assumed that you were one of those moronic, slow wited morans that your country specialises in the mass production of. But now I see you are in fact a rude and unhelpful neanderthal."
What I actaully said was "Cock sucking mother fucker" Which although harsher, makes me look like the nasty customer.
I can visualise his face now and I really really want to SLAP it.
I fucking hate LAX
Where was I? Oh yes. Was planning to buy presents and then this happened.
I got in the queue for immigration. An hour later I was still in the queue for immigration. What was most frustrating about this was that they kept opening new queues but taking the people from the BACK of our queue over to the new queue. Which would then get procesed super fast while we stayed in our S.L.O.W. queue. So the Jamaican lady in front of me had a shout at the immigration steward who was moving people around with no regard to who had been there first etc. She pointed out that 'It's like a freeway. You never know which lane is going to move faster."
Philosophical.
No one else seemed to be philosophical about it though and pretty soon this lady was getting dogs abuse. At this point, I had been in the queue for two hours and my concern had moved from not having time to shop to missing my connecting flight. I spoke to the Aristotle of US Immigration and she told me that I should have told her when I first got to the queue that I had a flight to catch. I pointed out that two hours ago and fifteenth in the queue I thought I had plenty of time to spare. "I'll see what I can do." she said.
Apparently what she could do was to move herself to work on another queue. That queue was far enough away that I would have to leave my queue and lose my place to go and talk to her again. Or shriek at her and probably take 65 bullets to the face by trigger happy yank wank guards.
Here's a sugestion LAX- since you insist on people who don't even want to enter you're shitty, bullying, capitalist pig dog country clearing immigration, how about you have seperate queues for those people who have connecting flights. It's hardly a giant mental leap.
So EVENTUALLY I cleared immigration and I still had to collect my luggage, clear customs, check in, clear security and board. My flight was boarding in twenty minutes. By the time I got to security my flight was boarding. The line was (Now I know I'm prone to a bit of exaggeration but this is the God's honest truth) 250 metres long. I whiped past the line to the security guard, certain that I could skip ahead as my flight was boarding. The security guard looked exactly like Adam Sandler wold if he was a couple of stone heavier.
I fucking hate Adam Sandler. The conversation went like this:
Lorraine: (A bit breathless after sprinting quite a bit, but smiling and friendly) My flight is boarding now
Fat Adam Sandler (FAD): (Smiling delightedly with a vacant look in his eye) Uh
Lorraine:( in a 'oh sorry, it's my accent, you didn't understand me' tone) My Flight. It's boarding now.
FAD: (Still DElighted with himself and nodding) Uh Uh.
Lorraine: So can I go through please?
FAD: Nope
Now here's what I should have said in order to make my point that I am a polite if somewhat stressed passenger and he is not being as helpful as I'm sure he is encouraged to be by his supervisor:
"Oh I understand now, See when you said, "Uh" I just assumed that you were one of those moronic, slow wited morans that your country specialises in the mass production of. But now I see you are in fact a rude and unhelpful neanderthal."
What I actaully said was "Cock sucking mother fucker" Which although harsher, makes me look like the nasty customer.
I can visualise his face now and I really really want to SLAP it.
I fucking hate LAX
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
LAX
Los Angelus Airport.
I FUCKING HATE the place.
I will be including a number of inflammatory words and links in the attempt to make this blog noteworthy to the American Government and so get my complaint letter on record by any means necessary.
George Bush, Death threat, Saddam Hussein.
The thing about passing through America on your way to somewhere else is that a while ago, some terrorists flew some of their planes into some of their buildings. This is very very very sad. And as a result they are conscious of security the way I am often conscious of my head after drinking nine bottles of wine.
Jihad, Osama Bin Laden, 9/11.
That's fair enough. Now it's quite frustrating that the response to this terrorism hangover is that, on a stopover, from one country to the next, I need to clear immigration, have my photo taken, get fingerprinted, collect all of my luggage, clear customs and go and check it all the fuck back in, clear security, get xrayed and finally go to my shitty departure lounge because LAX was built before a single person in America had any notion of class, comfort or style. But that's the price you pay for transiting in the States and the upside is it increases your luggage allowance.
Terrorism, National security, Suicide bomber.
However.
Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam.
They seem to have a further obligation to make this process as frustrating as possible.
War, Attack, Invasion.
So on my way home I had a three and a half hour stopover in LAX. 'Ah' I thought, 'I will stock up on books in Barnes and Noble'(books are weirdly expensive in NZ), 'I will visit MAC and MAX my credit card, I will investigate the shops for a present for Dee Bee's birthday.'
Day of reckoning, American infidels, Communism.
No no and no.
Bomb, explosion, incendary device.
I'll have to tell this in installments. I'm getting too angry.
I FUCKING HATE the place.
I will be including a number of inflammatory words and links in the attempt to make this blog noteworthy to the American Government and so get my complaint letter on record by any means necessary.
George Bush, Death threat, Saddam Hussein.
The thing about passing through America on your way to somewhere else is that a while ago, some terrorists flew some of their planes into some of their buildings. This is very very very sad. And as a result they are conscious of security the way I am often conscious of my head after drinking nine bottles of wine.
Jihad, Osama Bin Laden, 9/11.
That's fair enough. Now it's quite frustrating that the response to this terrorism hangover is that, on a stopover, from one country to the next, I need to clear immigration, have my photo taken, get fingerprinted, collect all of my luggage, clear customs and go and check it all the fuck back in, clear security, get xrayed and finally go to my shitty departure lounge because LAX was built before a single person in America had any notion of class, comfort or style. But that's the price you pay for transiting in the States and the upside is it increases your luggage allowance.
Terrorism, National security, Suicide bomber.
However.
Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam.
They seem to have a further obligation to make this process as frustrating as possible.
War, Attack, Invasion.
So on my way home I had a three and a half hour stopover in LAX. 'Ah' I thought, 'I will stock up on books in Barnes and Noble'(books are weirdly expensive in NZ), 'I will visit MAC and MAX my credit card, I will investigate the shops for a present for Dee Bee's birthday.'
Day of reckoning, American infidels, Communism.
No no and no.
Bomb, explosion, incendary device.
I'll have to tell this in installments. I'm getting too angry.
More stories
I have many more random travel stories that didn't quite make the grade while I was there. But I will include them here over the next few days/weeks.
I should say that the reason that I haven't updated here since I got back is because I have been in one of two states that precludes me from updating.
In work
Pissed
This morning it is Waitangi Day in NZ (the day they signed an agreement with Her Maj to let her have the country in return for her protection - this is the non controversial version of the treaty of Waitangi. In fact there are still a series of treaty claims and it's a big political lever. But this isn't really that kind of blog - google it if you're interested). Anyway the point is I'm at home. And although i have a hint of badger's arse in my mouth from last night's drinking I can at least type a sentence without gagging. That's probably because I restrained myself knowing that I was getting pissed today.
Anyway, which story to start with.....
I should say that the reason that I haven't updated here since I got back is because I have been in one of two states that precludes me from updating.
In work
Pissed
This morning it is Waitangi Day in NZ (the day they signed an agreement with Her Maj to let her have the country in return for her protection - this is the non controversial version of the treaty of Waitangi. In fact there are still a series of treaty claims and it's a big political lever. But this isn't really that kind of blog - google it if you're interested). Anyway the point is I'm at home. And although i have a hint of badger's arse in my mouth from last night's drinking I can at least type a sentence without gagging. That's probably because I restrained myself knowing that I was getting pissed today.
Anyway, which story to start with.....
Friday, January 25, 2008
Nearly over
I think I´ve finally cracked hyperlinking ... we´ll see
After two failed attempts to dive on this trip (and one in NZ just before I left) I was starting to think I was jinxed. But I´ve finished off the trip with three days of spectacular diving and I can´t believe it´s nearly over.
I did two reef dives, two at Cozumel (unreal wall of coral) and today, two Cenote dives. When I first did scuba diving in the ocean, I said it was like flinding another planet. Well today I found another one again. Completely different. I loved it.
And now all that´s left to do is pack, get a bus to Cancun (I´m in Playa Del Carmen), pick up some luggage at Dreams and then I´m on a plane home. Obviously I´m not DREADING going back to NZ, but to be fair, I could easily go another couple of months out here. I have fallen in love love love (with the place and people in general - not an individual!!)
For those of you in NZ... see you soon. For those of you not... come and visit, for those of you I´ve met on this trip - thanks for makign it memorable... and come and visit.
After two failed attempts to dive on this trip (and one in NZ just before I left) I was starting to think I was jinxed. But I´ve finished off the trip with three days of spectacular diving and I can´t believe it´s nearly over.
I did two reef dives, two at Cozumel (unreal wall of coral) and today, two Cenote dives. When I first did scuba diving in the ocean, I said it was like flinding another planet. Well today I found another one again. Completely different. I loved it.
And now all that´s left to do is pack, get a bus to Cancun (I´m in Playa Del Carmen), pick up some luggage at Dreams and then I´m on a plane home. Obviously I´m not DREADING going back to NZ, but to be fair, I could easily go another couple of months out here. I have fallen in love love love (with the place and people in general - not an individual!!)
For those of you in NZ... see you soon. For those of you not... come and visit, for those of you I´ve met on this trip - thanks for makign it memorable... and come and visit.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Travel roles
Alex and I have travelled a lot togethere. Having travelled a lot together we had certain roles that each of us took becuase we were better at it than the other one. Alex looked after money (boys´ clothes just naturally have more pockets), I always organised the accomodation (partly becuase I´m fussier, partly because it just seemed like I would get rooms when Alex had just been told they were completley full for the next six weeks).
Anyway, it´s not that I can´t work exchange rates or when Alex goes traveling he can´t find places to stay and sleeps rough. It was just that we had our roles.
However there is one thing that was Alex´s role that was purely and simply because I am SHIT at it. Navigation (that´s ´finding places´ to the rest of us).
I couldn´t navigate my way out of a paper bag. I have no sense of direction. I get lost on the way to the bathroom.
But on this trip I have embraced this flaw and just not tried to go anywhere that isn´t really really close to where I am without a cab, or someone else accompanying me who can find their arse with both hands. And I haven´t been lost once (well not really, really lost, just `oh well that restaurant has obviously shut, moved or melted, I´ll just go to this one instead´lost).
Which is why I was very disappointed with myself today when I suddenly realised that when I´d left the ruins at Tulum and gone straight I should have taken a right in order to get back to my hostal.
Here is the list of reasons why this is particularly embarassing:
1. My hostal is about 600m from the ruins. I walked about 2km before I began to think I may have gone wrong
2. On my way to the ruins, I walked past a market, an info booth and some lean tos. On my way from the ruins I walked past a ticket booth and about five hotels before I suspected something was up
3. The fucking Carribean Ocean was on my left when it should have been behind me.
As landmarks go - that´s a tough one to overlook.
Anyway, it´s not that I can´t work exchange rates or when Alex goes traveling he can´t find places to stay and sleeps rough. It was just that we had our roles.
However there is one thing that was Alex´s role that was purely and simply because I am SHIT at it. Navigation (that´s ´finding places´ to the rest of us).
I couldn´t navigate my way out of a paper bag. I have no sense of direction. I get lost on the way to the bathroom.
But on this trip I have embraced this flaw and just not tried to go anywhere that isn´t really really close to where I am without a cab, or someone else accompanying me who can find their arse with both hands. And I haven´t been lost once (well not really, really lost, just `oh well that restaurant has obviously shut, moved or melted, I´ll just go to this one instead´lost).
Which is why I was very disappointed with myself today when I suddenly realised that when I´d left the ruins at Tulum and gone straight I should have taken a right in order to get back to my hostal.
Here is the list of reasons why this is particularly embarassing:
1. My hostal is about 600m from the ruins. I walked about 2km before I began to think I may have gone wrong
2. On my way to the ruins, I walked past a market, an info booth and some lean tos. On my way from the ruins I walked past a ticket booth and about five hotels before I suspected something was up
3. The fucking Carribean Ocean was on my left when it should have been behind me.
As landmarks go - that´s a tough one to overlook.
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