Thursday, March 07, 2002

Friday, March 08, 2002

*ducking for cover as everyone goes mad around me*

stress is a crazy thing - turns normal highly strung females into weapons of mass destruction.

okay i was just accused of being mean.. the world is going to hell in a hand basket I tells ya!

Monday, March 11, 2002

James had a theory, the last time I tried his Chocolate Vodka I was queasy on the ferry-ride home because I didn't drink enough of the cool syrupy mixture. I just needed to drink more to get me over that squeamish bump. Was he right? No he wasn't. 6 hours, two chocolate vodkas and a number of beers later I konked out at home. Its like slow release drunkedness. It must be the chocolate.. it has to be the chocolate. I'm never drinking chocolate again!

Surprisingly enough, I was up early Saturday morning - seemed my body screamed for breakfast after the famine of the night before. I had an appointment to have my hair cut and was determined not to be late. Unfortunately, they were, so my appointment ran long and only left with a small margin of time to get into town to see the matinee of RNZB's Hunchback of Notredame I had Greg drop us off in town. Amy and I had wonderful seats at The Civic. she hadn't been there before and fell in love with the place with wide-eyed wonder. It's just so magical there, colourful and beautiful. Swan Lake (in May) and Carmen (in December) are being danced at the ASB Theatre in the Aotea Centre, which is a bit of a shame, cos it's so scrumptious at the Civic. But we'll still be going.

So Saturday was long but good, and Saturday night was quiet and good. Sunday was slow and lazy. Coming to work this morning and opening my diary made me realise Sonia's Housewarming the night before had completely gone from my brain and I had missed it. I need to co-ordinate my atwork diary with my athome diary (oh heres an idea mish.. use ONE DIARY).

Its blustery here in Auckland today. Its getting cooler on the Ferry rides and the sun is lower in the sky. Winter is on its way - the days are shorter and the nights are getting cooler. Summer seems to have gone quickly this year.

Monday, March 18, 2002

*peers at blogger* I seem to have been writing and not publishing. Taking slack to new lows.

The weekend was eventful. Last week our landlords gave us 6 weeks to move out. Seems they sold their mansion and wanted their (our) little house back. As timing would have it, a girl at work was looking for a flatmate so I offered my not inconsiderable talants as one and she accepted. I went to see the place yesterday but as I told Kiki (the girl) when she asked if i'd seen the bathroom (as she was showing me the bits of the house) I said "I don't care really" and its true. I'd already made my mind up living with Kiki'd be a good idea and the actual house was just so many details that didn't matter. As it is though, its a lovely house in a suburb across the water called Devonport.

That was Sunday on the way to the Takapuni Muddy Farmer St Patrick's Day thing Sonia took me to. Robert was there already with some people from his work (I think) and we had a fairly nice time. Lots of lovely people to look at and the band was mediocre. The food was okay but it came in a bun and i ended up with its evidence on my shirt. Robert and Sonia and I talked and talked and talked. It wasn't until afterwards that I realised none of us really shut up for a good 8 hours. Talking to each other too mostly. The upshot of all this talk was that Sonia and I can see a lot of money to be made in running a stable of fine young men for the fine women of our fair city. Robert just mostly wanted one or other or both of us to have our wicked way with him. I acted impulsively upon a poor innocent named Neil who would have shaken my hand but his were full. I just stopped him to introduce myself and tell him I'd been admiring him from afar for several hours. He thanked me, moved off and promptly forgot me. Ah well, I don't quite know why I did that but he was very nice to look upon.

And then we went to eat, at a place and name I can't remember: not for the comsumption of beer but for the fact I never pay attention. We ate and continued talking and then sang a bit with the band and discussed Roberts - no wait.. i can't tell you what we discussed - this is a family show. Needless to say we had a good time and then we went home. Okay there was a bit in between the leaving the restaurant and going home that has me hobbling 'round today. I tripped over a stupid fence and fell on the stupid ground and grazed my stupid leg and bruised my stupid ankle and felt stupid. "you all right there, michelle" crumpled on the ground "yeh, i'm fine" and I was. Til this morning and I got out of bed and fell over. Ah well. Hobbling is fairly attractive, right? The more i get around the better it gets though so lets hope by the time I go home i'll be fine and fit *coughs* and dandy.

Weather Observation: overcast, blustery, swirling dry leaves and flicks of water. Sea is choppy and creamy.

Last Thursday night I went to see The Proclaimers at the St James and it was *so* good. Mags and Ron came and I wrangled Robert into coming too. It was a good night.

PS:

(03:59:19) Blueberry Blue : enters the chatroom...
(03:59:38) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: Hullo!
(04:02:53) [mish] : hello!
(04:03:50) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: Was the Neil you met on Sunday British?
(04:04:03) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: yes
(04:04:37) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: hmmm
(04:04:44) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: whatttt?
(04:05:06) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: Tim's workmate, Neil, is British, and was there on Sunday.
(04:05:23) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: oh god *throws my hands in the air* that'd be right.
(04:05:35) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: Tim was mentioning him going independently of your story, I hadn't mentioned it at all.
(04:05:37) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: tall (ish) short dark hair? no socks.
(04:06:06) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: Dark hair "he's taller than me"
(04:06:34) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: he was beautiful.
(04:07:31) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: well anyways. compound my embarrassment by asking him if a woman had a weird conversation with him on sunday
(04:07:44) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: Tim's threatening to send him your URL
(04:07:56) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: I won;t give it to him tho
(04:08:05) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: before or AFTER i put the pic of me falling over the fence?
(04:08:13) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: its okay.. its funny don't you think?
(04:08:31) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: just good old NZ small world
(04:08:55) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: he sure did look good. if i was 20 yrs younger phfaw
(04:15:06) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: I just remembered who he is
(04:15:20) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: he does have a britilicious accent
(04:15:44) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: it couldn't possibly be the same guy
(04:16:23) Blueberry Blue says to [mish]: why?
(04:16:42) [mish] says to Blueberry Blue: that'd be too weird

PPS:

>From: Neil
>Subject: Re:Neil's Sunday
>To: Tim
>
>well bugger me!! it is me!! how did you find this?!................ lets
just say she wasnt my type!! :-)
>
>On Tue, 19 Mar 2002 09:16, you wrote:
> > I'd say none.
> >
> >
> > ----- Original Message -----
> > From: Pascal
> > Sent: Monday, March 18, 2002 9:55 PM
> > Subject: Re:Neil's Sunday
> >
> > > That sounds like Neil... I mean - how many Brits matching that
> > > description in and around Auckland ?
> > >
> > > -----Original Message-----
> > > From: Tim
> > > Sent: Monday, 18 March 2002 9:04 p.m.
> > > Subject: Neil's Sunday
> > >
> > >
> > > Neil, did you get approached by a woman on Sunday?
> > >
> > > Do a search for "Neil" on this page:
> > > http://www.thejamjar.com/diary.html
> > >
> > > I know a little more than what's written here, and I swear it's you
;-)
> > >
> > > Cheers,
> > > Tim

The End.

Thursday, March 21, 2002

ADF says to Salmon on Toast: My mate from work has a buddy who owns a few really posh trendy restaurants in Oxford - my mate and I can't really afford to go to them, but his mate sorts us out and gets us good tables and so on, so the odd time we go for brunch or cocktails or whatever.
So one Saturday, a while back - maybe a month ago, we were in this place called the Duke of Cambridge having a smattering of brunch wot wot. We had a kind of booth thing, but it was just the two of us, so when this guy came over as said "The place is packed, do you mind if we sit here with you?" We naturally just said for him to go right ahead.
Now - the night before, I had been watching So Graham Norton, a chatshow on Channel 4, and who was on it, but Orlando Bloom. I laughed as I thought to myself, 'Good God, I'd never have recognised him as the guy from LOTR without his long blonde hair.'
Finally twig on that it's him and say "Excuse me, were you on Graham Norton last night?"........."I was." he says and I grin at my stunning memory. "I really loved you in Moonlighting." I say, making a JJ joke about the fact that one of the other guests was Cybil Shepherd.......... blank expression from Orlando.
Nothing more was said throughout the meal until we got up to leave and I offered "You weren't bad in Lord of the Rings either."............."Thanks very much." he said through a mouthful of Ceasar salad.
"Sure thing," I said "I loved that big ginger beard they gave you too, I'd hardly have recognised you."
blank expression from Orlando
He was so dense I swear the light in the place was bending round him

Wednesday, March 27, 2002

It's 'cardie' weather. I'd like to link the word 'cardie' for you so you could go straight to the Glossary but it seems I have forgotten this great kiwi word. Shame on me.

'Cardie' is short for cardigan. A knitted or crocheted long sleeved garment that buttons down the front. (an example).

So yes, it's cardie weather. Time for another layer. Mostly it's inside that's a bit chilly - air conditioning that a few weeks ago was a nice relief from the muggy heat outside, now prickles the skin and makes you rub your hands together. It seems, one by one, we're off to buy 'office cardies' to ward off the goosebumps.

Yesterday, it was my birthday. Amy came into town and took me out to lunch. We went to a buffet Chinese foody place that wasn't very good, and I didn't eat much though she seemed happy enough. There was a man there, and he looked so familiar to me. I kept looking at him imagining he was then imagining he couldn't possible be the man I thought he was. I was transported all the way back to the early 80s and lots of slivers of memories and one in particular - of an office christmas party and a secret santa gift.

Sara was my friend. Tall, busty, blonde and sweet, all the guys loved Sara. When she pulled Paul's name out of the hat, she became his Secret Santa. She couldn't think of anything to buy for him and asked me for my help. I suggested the only thing he really would want was her (not literally, cos he was and still is a very happily married man) and that she should box herself up and give herself as his present. She thought this was a good idea, but couldn't do it on her own. So I became the organiser and this is what we did: The day happened to be a 'Fancy Dress' day too, and Sara and I were dressed in the 30s style. We had seen Paul (he was and still is very good looking) earlier and had been a little disappointed in his business suit as his fancy dress. Sara and I climbed into a crate (large crate seeing as she was so leggy and all) and had the storeman deliver said crate to Paul in the canteen when it was his turn to get up and recieve his Secret Santa gift.