Leaf, probably…

I haven’t done a post in list form for a very long time. At least a week anyway. So I thought I’d do one today: 

• I might be going for drinks tonight with Karlie and Leslea. Or I might be going to the gym to work out all alone. Considering how much I enjoy working out on my own (I don’t) I’m leaning a lot towards the drinks.

• This morning, while on the bus, I saw a man stumble out of Mermaids (Wellingtons premier men’s entertainment club.) He grinned blearily at my bus and waved before stumbling down Courtney place. He looked very pleased with himself.

• The other day I had to buy a text book for my POLS course. I hate it when the lecturers prescribe books that they, or the course administrator, have written. And I hate it even more when the text is so very obviously overpriced. $50 for a badly written dry-as-toast book.

• Because I was angry about the book and the spending of hard earned money I went on TradeMe and bid on the equivalent amount of trashy romance novels, and winter clothing. I am a very bad influence on myself.

• Taekwon-Do camp is coming up on the 15th-17th (I think) of August. It’s near Lower Hutt somewhere, and Dad, if you’re reading this, family is allowed to come watch the grading, which I’m fairly sure is on Saturday (16th) morning.

• Last night at TKD they made that same joke about the 6am run and swim in a freezing cold river. I think they might actually be serious.

• I hate running.

• It’s winter here in New Zealand. Winter is cold. 6am in the morning is cold. Rivers are very cold.

• I hate being cold.

• Seriously, I don’t like the cold. I have an electric blanket, two duvets, two blankets, a throw rug, a hot water bottle and many many pairs of flannelette PJ’s. Last night I used them all. Except the electric blanket - I’m scared it’s too old to be safe anymore, and I’ll wake up on fire.

• In that same week of the TKD camp I have a briefing paper (worth15%), a class test (worth25%) and a 2000 word essay (worth 25%) due. I’m thinking I’d better start writing now.

• Also: I’d better start practicing and learning my theory for TKD because my mini-grading is in roughly two weeks. (there will be no grading without first passing the mini-grading.)

• Whoops. I agreed to go out for a drink with the girls before considering the fact that I am so not dressed for it. I am wearing trainers, jeans, a woolly casual Friday jumper, and a very baggy thermal top that I stole off my Mum last weekend. Crap. I need to go shopping.

• I also need to go food shopping. I am down to a packet of pasta, three different types of rice, a jar of pesto, and a jar of garlic aioli. I’ve had pesto and pasta for three nights in a row. It would have been four, but thankfully Louise took pity on me last night and gave me some of her chicken and vegetable pie.

• Who says I’m not domesticated huh? THREE types of rice. Domestic goddesses probably only ever have two at a time. And one of my bags is wholegrain brown rice. That’s very healthy.

• Usually I have brown wholegrain pasta too. Last time I couldn’t find any on the supermarket shelf, so I gave up. Also: It takes five times as long as normal pasta and rice to cook because it’s so much denser. Sometimes I’m just not that patient.

• Ok. I’m never that patient. I eat crunchy pasta and rice 99.9% of the time.

Hm. So that was less of a list and more of a stream of consciousness in list form.

Anyway: Homework.

I’ve just started back at uni, and there seems to be an excess of it. You know me though: I like to share the fun around, so today you have homework: I’d like you to list three things you’ll be doing today. If you don’t have three things, make some up. 

Shannon needs some procrastination material…

Blah. Just staple a box of tissues to my forehead and call me done. I’m so fucking exhausted from all the mucus producing and open mouth breathing that I’m ready for another nap.

Unfortunately napping is not possible today (hell, it shouldn’t have been possible yesterday…)

I was hoping to have the cold over with by this afternoon - just in time for Boxing class at the gym tonight, and Taekwon-Do on Thursday. Unfortunately it looks like I’ll be lucky if it’s all cleared up before Mexican Fiesta Friday at work.

*Sigh*

*Sneeze*

*Mucus*

*Sigh*

This morning instead of returning my mistakenly ordered ream of A3 pink paper to the stationary company, I cut it up into A4 size so that I wouldn’t have to phone them and organise a replacement. The call would have taken 5 minutes. Cutting up 500 sheets of paper took 1 hour. Do I regret it? Hell no.

We also had an office meeting for the first time in about a year. I had nothing to add, and none of the items were of any relevance to me, but it was really nice to know what is going on in the office for a change. It made me feel connected with my co-workers - something that seldom happens because my job is so different to everyone elses.

Louise and Karlie met up with me for lunch. It was nice to reconnect with friendly faces in the middle of the work day. Going back to work afterwards was a bit of a challenge though.

I always pause just as I reach the lobby, before I flash the security guard my ID card. In that moment I imagine turning on my heel and heading back out onto the street. Once out there I’d call my office and inform them that I’ve been in a car accident, or I’ve got food poisoning, or that I’ve been taken hostage by bank robbers, so I can’t come in to work for the rest of the day. Then I pull my ID card out of my bag, flash it to the security guard and head for the elevator back to my office.

One of these days I’m actually going to do it. The way I imagine the phone call going:

Him: Very Important Person’s office, Boss speaking.
Me: Boss, hi it’s Shannon here.
Him: Ah, Shannon, I was expecting you back in the office any moment now, what’s up?
Me: Well, you see, I’m just calling to let you know that I went to the chemists on my lunch break, and they had a toxic chemical scare.
Him: Oh no! Really? How… Improbable…
Me: So, the fire service showed up, along with a whole heap of police officers, and scientists of course.
Him: Of course… What would we do without the scientists.
Me: I know, right? Anyway, I’m stuck in decontamination while they investigate the scene to make sure it was just a false alarm. I don’t think I’m going to finish up here for a long time, so I’m not going to be in the office this arvo.
Him: Ah…
Me: Yeah.
Him: You know I can see you down there on the street right? My office looks right down to the entrance way there…
Me: Er. No you can’t that’s not me.
Him: Yes it is… Your jacket is very distinctive.
Me: Ah! Bank Robbers!
Him: I thought you were at a chemist?
…Dial Tone…

I’m clinging to the top of a climbing wall at Fergs on the waterfront. My arms seem to have locked into place - which is a good thing, because I’m tired, and from my last estimate I’m roughly 10,000 meters from the ground.

“Lean back!” Louise is yelling. She’s been saying that for some time now.

She’s easy to ignore all the way up here.

I don’t want to let go of the wall. Perhaps I could climb back down, like spiderman in reverse? I go down half a step, and Louise yells at me again.

Finally I manage to relax my hands and sit back onto the harness. Not too far back, mind, but I’m not clinging to the wall anymore. I’m clinging to the rope.

Louise lowers me and my stomach takes a little longer than everything else to hit the ground.

“That was scary.” I say shaking out my hands.

Louise looks at me like I’m an idiot. “You’re on a rope. I’m not going to drop you.”

“Yeah But I’m scared of heights, and it’s scary leaning back.”

Louise clearly doesn’t get it.

For her the fun bit is whizzing back down to the ground. For me it’s looping the knot before I climb, and the climb itself. My climbs are always slow. I like to think about where my hands and feet are going, and I like to be sure that I’m not going to slip and plunge to the AstroTurf below my feet.

Louise hooks herself onto the ropes, and almost before I’m ready she flings herself up the wall that I just climbed. She gets up it in less time than I did, and casually lets go of the wall, leaning back into her harness with no issues.

I shake my head in wonder. I want to ask ‘What if you fall Louise!?”. I don’t yell out though - I know it will be counterproductive to getting her back onto the ground. Also it would be a really shitty thing for a belayer to say to a friend.

My turn again, and I jump up onto the wall. Two meters up the fear settles itself over my shoulders like a blanket. I shrug it off casually, and stretch to reach my next hold.

As long as I’m going up I’ll be fine.

The 44 bus was late again.

The old man next to him seemed to be trying to get his attention discreetly, but Wilbert wasn’t falling for that again. Last time he’d struck up a conversation with a pensioner she’d forced him to carry eight bags of groceries five blocks and up three sets of stairs while she prattled on about her grandchildren. Wilbert was not going to be tricked into that again.

The old man seemed to tire of clearing his throat and pointed stares, instead he had progressed to tapping Wilbert on the shin with his walking stick.

“Psst!”

Wilbert remained facing forwards.

“Hey kid…” The man stage whispered towards him.

“Hey kid, want to hear a secret?”

Wilbert’s patience ran out. He turned to face the older man. “I’m not a kid. I’m 32 this year, you know. And my name is Wilbert.”

“Exactly.” Said the old man in what he hoped was a mysterious sort of a voice. “I’m Edgar. So do you want to hear a secret?”

“Does it have anything to do with carrying your groceries?”

“No, I don’t need help because..” Edgar lowered his voice to a stage whisper again “I’m a superhero.”

After giving him a few moments to digest this revelation Edgar told Wilbert the whole story.

It seemed that Edgar after 10 years of walking with the aid of a walking stick had recently begun walking without a stick.

He had woken up that morning, and walked halfway down his hallway before he realised that he was doing so without his trusty stick. Naturally the first thing he did was put on a pair of running shoes and come down to the bus stop to tell the first person he saw.

“That doesn’t make you a super hero.” Wilbert said dismissively. “You’re too old. And you still have your stick with you.”

” I’m only 92″ Edgar retorted “That’s not too old. And I have to keep my stick with me otherwise the bad guys would know who my alter ego is.”

Edgar shook his head. Clearly the boy was an idiot. Everyone knew about bad guys and alter egos.

Wilbert digested that for a moment before he thought of something very clever indeed.

“If you truly are a superhero then prove it. You can’t expect me to just believe you because you said so.”

With a sigh, and a covert glance down the street, Edgar stood up and shuffled a few steps forward without the aid of the walking stick. After a pause Edgar lurched into a slow jog. He only managed three paces before he had to turn around and head back to the bench, but clearly that was enough to win Wilbert over.

“Wow. So you really are a superhero? And you just woke up this morning like that?”

“Yup” Edgar replied proudly. “One day I was ordinary old Edgar, and today I’m the Silver Foot Fox.”

Wilbert stared out at the road for a few moments. “So anyone can be a superhero then?”

Edgar nodded. He was pretty sure that’s how it worked anyway.

“You know… The other week I woke up and I didn’t need my glasses anymore. All my life I’ve needed them for reading, and Monday last week *poof* I didn’t.”

“Exactly!” Edgar crowed. He knew he had picked the right bus stop to sit in.

“But my eyesight isn’t super or anything, it’s just like a normal persons’. I just don’t need glasses anymore.”

“Yes, but it’s new for you isn’t it?” Edgar asked

Wilbert nodded.

“So it’s a super power. It’s just well hidden is all.”

The 44 bus came and went. Wilbert stayed where he was chatting with Edgar.

At some point one or the other decided they needed a secret headquarters. Edgar decided that the bus shelter would probably be the best spot - after all no one would guess that they were standing in a secret headquarters making it safe from all sorts of bad guys.

Finally Edgar realised it was afternoon tea time, and he had a lot of superhero stuff to do. He shuffled back up the road to his house leaving Wilbert to his thoughts.

“The Longsighted Lasso? Vision Man?… Oh, I know, The 20/20 Kid!”

It was perfect. That night the 20/20 Kid made himself a swishy cape out of a ripped bed sheet and called in sick to work the next day. He had a lot of crime fighting to catch up on.

This is part of my ongoing experiment in wasting time on Curiously Dull Fiction.

Hey guess what? Tonight, instead of going to Taekwon-do in Kilbirnie, we get to try Kempo Karate in town. And by we I mean Miramar Taekwon-do. Neat right?

I did a bit of research on Kempo and discovered… well, not a lot really. I did find out that nobody is 100% sure exactly where Kempo originated from, and that it incorporates a whole bunch of different techniques from a whole bunch of different martial arts  - including aerial and spinning kicks from Taekwon-Do.

There seems to be a few different styles, and after doing a quick google search, most of the ones in New Zealand seem to be the American branch - although I couldn’t find the exact branch we’re doing it with.

According to Wikipedia “American Kempo employ linear and circular movements with a signature “rapid fire” combination of blows to vital areas of the body.” Now I don’t know exactly what that means but WOW it does sound bad-ass doesn’t it?

And that whole ‘rapid fire’ thing? You know what that means? It means it’s going to be an awesome workout… Or, you know, it means that I’m going to have a lot of bruises on Friday and I’ll have to explain to my boss that I let a 14 year old boy kick me because I was wondering whether to block. Whatever.

And you know what else I found out? They have totally cool uniforms. Lots of black, and everyone knows that black = cool.

I’ll bet Kempo Karate members never have to get up at 6am in the morning to wrestle with an ironing board because they forgot about class that night after work, and then find a stain that looks a lot like cranberry juice on their belt, and then have to figure out whether normal washing powder will get that out of white, or whether they’re going to have to use bleach.

Actually people who belong to Taekwon-Do might never have to worry about that either. It’s probably just something that happens to me.

—

I spent lunch time yesterday in Rebel Sport shopping for new gym pants because of this. I hate gym pant shopping. I especially hate shopping in Rebel. It takes forever, there’s never anything in my size, the shop assistants are few and slow to respond, and it’s hideously over-priced - $80 for a pair of performance enhancing running pants with dry technology?!

I’m looking for a pair of shorts to get sweaty in, they don’t have to be made out of gold and sprinkled with fairy dust.

I did not buy the fairy dust running pants. I brought the first pair on sale that would let me do wide squats and lunges without getting in the way and making my butt look saggy.*

Anyway, the point of me telling you that was because I’m curious, where do you buy your gym gear? And do you get yours with all the sides and toppings, or do you go cheap and nasty?

*Yes I did squats and lunges in the changing room in Rebel sport. It was cramped and I looked like a dork because the doors do not go right down to the floor.

Ahhh!!! Sex and the City!

Ok, sorry. Had to get that one out there.

So Leslea and I met at Readings before the show. We gulped down a burger from classy McD’s before making our way upstairs. When we got up there - I’m not even joking - we were greeted by a swarming wave of GIRL. Sure there were a few guys up there, but they were the ones in fetal position, at the sides of the room. Most of them evacuated back downstairs until the craziness was over.

The tickets we had procured were from Kinetic Recruitment, sent out to Louise as a thank you for choosing them earlier this year. We felt a little shady about pretending to be Louise, so we slunk by the first wave of friendly recruitment girls.

We found the second wave of recruitment ladies at the door of the theater. I was sure we were about to be thrown out. Around us the other movie goers were greeting their agents and chatting about their new jobs. Instead of throwing us out on our ear, or asking where the heck Louise was, they took our coveted double pass and handed us two cute little Chinese takeaway type boxes full of sweets. Then they ushered us past the pink and white balloons and into the theater.

In the movie theater we were confronted by the third wave of recruiters. They wanted to know if we would like ice cream, and perhaps a bottle of water, or fizzy drink. We did.

The people from Kinetic were genuinely nice (even though they didn’t know us at all) and the ladies were all so excited to see the film. It was catching I think because by the time we got to our seats I was dying to see the film too.

We had a bit of a wait, for all the last minute ladies, and made a game out of counting the boys. There were no more than 11 in a theater of 200, and boy did they all look pleased as punch to be there.

When the movie finally started it exceeded my expectations. Sure in places it was a little over the top, but I had expected downright awful for some reason. It wasn’t. I laughed my butt off in places, and got a little tear in my eye in others. It was a good movie, and enough to make me want to watch all the seasons again (also because I missed the last season!)

I’m not allowed to say too much - or anything - because Stace, Louise and Karlie will all shoot me, but the movie has a lot of raunch.

Also… you see penis… There I said it… This movie is going to be the new Wild Things.

(If you’ve ever been a teenage girl, in a room full of teenage girls watching Kevin Bacon in that movie you know what I mean.)

Tonight I am going to Sex in the City on behalf of Louise. Her recruitment company sent a free double pass to the preview but unfortunately, because Louise is massively popular, she has to be elsewhere tonight.

She gifted it to Leslea and I - although I have yet to hear back from Leslea as to whether she actually is coming. If she’s not able to get off work in time I’m sure it will be no issue at all finding someone willing to drop everything and come watch a movie with me.

Someone female that is. I hear guys would rather eat their own arms than have to sit in a movie theatre and watch SJP run around New York in a wedding dress. Whatever.

I was having a conversation along those lines with Ben the other day over coffee and he said the most improbable thing… He was moaning about how much of a waste of time the movie was, and how no self respecting male would allow himself to be badgered into going, and then he said:

“Besides, you can tell he totally doesn’t love her anyway.”

Did anyone else know that my boyfriend used to watch Sex and the City? Because I sure didn’t. He defended it by saying that he used to live with girls and was forced to watch it.

I’m not going to call him out on that at all, but I will say that of all the times I’ve been forced to watch something I’m truly not interested in I retain almost no memory of the programme, and certainly not enough to analyse the main characters relationships.

Despite my assertion that the weekend was going to suck, it didn’t.

I got my exam done, and that pretty much sucked. The rest was pretty awesome.

I went to Leslea’s birthday party on Friday night. She had mini slices on one of those cute three tiered cake things. There was also mudcake from the chocolate cake company, and many cocktails. Has anyone tried Fejoa vodka and Chi, with a squeeze of lime? It’s my new favourite thing. It tastes just like fejoa.

Karlie, Louise and I brought Leslea the Dirty Dancing special anniversary DVD, and the workout DVD. Leslea’s partner, Damon, saw them and wept. With happiness no doubt. I know he’s been dying to do that workout tape for some time now, we’ve just made his dearest dreams come true.

When it came time to leave we realised that I - true to form - had checked the wrong bus timetable. So we walked to Kilbirnie and caught a taxi.

On Saturday Louise, Karlie an I went to the zoo and Karlie photographed anything that moved - and plenty of things that didn’t. She has a new camera, and was super excited about it. You could take a gander at her photos here if you were so inclined…

After that we went for a very late lunch at Kallais in Newtown. It’s a bit dodgy looking on the outside, but the inside is a totally different story. We all ate too much, especially considering we had an early dinner at One Red Dog to go to.

Chris piled us all into his car, and took us out to his place where we met a goat called Buster. Karlie took photos and bonded. Did you know that Karlie daydreams about owning a heard of goats and making goats cheese for a living? No? Well she does.

One Red Dog was good, but then Pizza is always good.

Cats was amazing. I went with Louise, Becks, and Becks’ two flatmates. I got us seats WAY up in the gallery, and off to the side, so we missed all the action in the front right hand corner of the stage. There was enough action on the rest of the stage for me not to give a damn.

I had goose bumps the entire time, it was that great.

Then Louise and I went home and attempted to recreate the magic for Karlie. We would have succeeded too, except Louise wasn’t half as good as me at pretending to be a fat cat. I forgive her though, because she did attempt to sing, and not everyone can be as fabulous as me at this sort of thing. Neither of us attempted to do the splits, and that was probably for the best.

The rest of my weekend was spent eating roast pork, and slaving over the stupid 1000 piece black and white puzzle that I bought from the Salvation Army ages ago. Is anyone out there considering buying a black and white puzzle? Because you shouldn’t. Colours are what make these sorts of things fun. Also… you know… possible.

Wintertime really does showcase Wellington flats at their best. Over what seems like the last two weeks our idyllic Miramar flat has turned into a damp chilly fridge box.

In summer, or during the day - when nobody is home - the sun shines into our lounge and kitchen warming them up through our very big windows and ranch slider. At night the heat escapes though those same windows and we huddle under blankets.

As winter mornings are pretty much unbearable to shower in, we’re been leaving the window in our bathroom shut, and sometimes forgetting to open it again once we’re done. As there is no other form of ventilation, and our bathroom has a heat light, our pristine white walls have bloomed with black mould over the space of a week.

I sprayed exit mould onto the walls this morning, and I’m hoping that’s all that’s required to keep it at bay.

Our washroom will also soon become victim to the mould, as whomever designed it chose not to put in any sort of reliable ventilation and one window that does not open. It does have a door to the back to the house, but you have to be home all day, or very stupid to leave that wide open while the washing machine and drier are going.

And another thing, do you remember when I mentioned my bedroom and it’s linoleum floors? Yes? Good, because those suckers are COLD in the morning. They’re cold in the morning, and the afternoon, and they’re even cold in the evening.

Actually my room doesn’t hold heat at all. Despite only having one very small window. It’s damp, and I’m tempted to keep the dehumidifier in there all day every day. Unfortunately the dehumidifier is upstairs being used to solve the drier/ mouldy bathroom/ condensation-y lounge and kitchen issue.

Does anyone actually have a nice ventilated, dry, well insulated house in Wellington?!

Do they even exist?

In other news I have my POLS exam today. I’m freaking out a wee bit over here, so I think I’m going to sneak out of work early to go over my notes. It’s not like my boss is here anyway…

Yesterday I went shopping and brought a Jersey dress to be worn over pants, and a flowey empire type top. I um-med and ah-hed over them for ages, because although I need something to wear to Leslie’s, and for Mums partners 50th, and for Cats on Saturday I wasn’t quite sure whether they drew all sorts of nasty attention to my tummy. I’m blaming winter fat stores if they make me look bloated and preggers (I’m NOT by the way that’s just where I happen to store all my fat.)

That and the strange skinny mirrors in Farmers. They’re honestly like something from a fun house. One minute you’re wondering if you’ve gained weight from all the shitty exam eating, and the next minute you’re standing in front of the skinny mirrors marvelling at your reality defying tummy and butt.

Perhaps I should break out the nasty black corset I brought on our flat’s last outing to Bras ’N’ Things (nasty in a very good way of course)… How do you guys hide the inevitable winter bulk up?

I feel like I’ve been wrung out. I feel like my insides have been dissected, and weighed, and found wanting.

I feel like I didn’t finish either essay in my 50 minute test. Mostly because I didn’t.

I feel like I should have written more about foreign policy after the Soviet Union became Russia. Two garbled sentences were probably not enough.

I feel like I should know more than I do. Mostly because The only tangible things I can remember right now from this course is the correct spelling of Britain and that the Bay of Pigs was not a fight about Cuban bacon.

In other news: We’re celebrating Leslea’s 23rd birthday this weekend by attending a swanky cocktail party with her.

This Saturday I’m going to see Cats at the Opera House with Becks and Louise, and we’re going to One Red Dogbeforehand for pizza. MMmm good!

And best of all? This Monday is a public holiday!