so i already said in fishboy's comments that i don't have morning soundtracks running through my head when i awake from restful slumber, but i do have songs that get stuck in my head all the bloody time when i haven't heard them in yonkies.
"you make me feel like dancing.... i'm so excited and i just can't hide it, you make me feel brand new"... all these very happychirpy songs that have no relevance or real _place_ in my life!! what's with *that*?
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Monday, March 14, 2005
YEAR OF THE COCK
cock
Originally uploaded by frogstarstrikesagain.
fantastic cock at the chinese new year lantern festival. as i am a rooster child myself, i assume it means that i'm up for a good year. the lantern festival was really great... beautiful lanterns, interesting food, lots of sparkly plastic stuff to purchase.
in my case... a glitzy samurai sword for c.
the chinese teenage popstars got a little trying, there's only so many schmultzy foreign love songs one can handle.
steel-workers had to be the highlight of the night, they were great. intricately embroidered costumes, drag queen makeup, big hair, fancy staff fighting (wow!).
Friday, February 25, 2005
a bar called 1066
next door, a video store. a bakery, closed. butcher, ditto.
but inside this bar... an ant hill of activity.
i order a gin and tonic, take it to an empty table (plenty to choose from), and settle in for a spot of people-watching.
karaoke... two men sing their kindly but dull hearts out.
four specimens in sparkling pink twitter and flutter, shaking their child-bearing hips and flicking their pantene hair-dos.
bar maid (proprietor?) in yellow and black, teetering on uncomfortable heels. one of those top-heavy women. finds it hard to get a bra that doesn't cut into her shoulders. dyes her hair black, though the wrinkled throat gives away her age.
two men, strangers to each other, chat at the bar. one in a polo shirt and jeans, the other in bike leathers. with suspenders. his helmet on the bar beside him. he's sure of himself, yells good-natured (if rather bad-taste) remarks at the dancers.
sitting in a corner is a tall, thin man who once in a while gets up to give advice to the guy figuring out the cd player in the corner. when he stands he becomes a character from a b-grade western.his shoulders rounded, clothed in a crisp white singlet top, tight jeans, boots and moustache. he walks like a primate, stooped and languid.
the table next to me is occupied by an elderly man, he looks sad watching the 'youngsters' strutting their stuff.
we endure their painful renditions of classics by the likes of elvis, george michael, elton john. for some reason the guy who is singing keeps chucking out random comments like "ladies and gentlemen, elton JOHN!!" and "next up a wee number by..."
is that odd, or is it just me? surely he needen't introduce himself? luckily though his voice was pleasant enough. the highlight was YMCA, sung with gusto and badly orchestrated moves by the four hair-dos.
at irregular intervals the music is interrupted by the sound of a clattering avalanch of coins from around the corner [use of gaming machines prohibited by those under 18 years of age]. eventually our winner emerges... resplendent in an ocean of pink and white... hair and skin included. she waddles over to hubby, that awkward looking man alone at the table beside mine, mutters something to him and makes her way outside for a smoke.
i sit back and swig from my drink... having thrown aside those little straws they insist on sticking in womens' drinks. eventually a smile creeps on to my face, i relax into the mangy bar-stool and my gaze turns to the walls. ooh, a crossbow! and is that really a numbchuck? yes, it seems so.
deciding that i've seen enough, i finish my drink, smile at the bar maid, and make my way to the door, weaving through the gaggle of gyrating laydees, past the crooners, and onwards out into the night.
i grin to myself, and wander the 20 minutes home.
next door, a video store. a bakery, closed. butcher, ditto.
but inside this bar... an ant hill of activity.
i order a gin and tonic, take it to an empty table (plenty to choose from), and settle in for a spot of people-watching.
karaoke... two men sing their kindly but dull hearts out.
four specimens in sparkling pink twitter and flutter, shaking their child-bearing hips and flicking their pantene hair-dos.
bar maid (proprietor?) in yellow and black, teetering on uncomfortable heels. one of those top-heavy women. finds it hard to get a bra that doesn't cut into her shoulders. dyes her hair black, though the wrinkled throat gives away her age.
two men, strangers to each other, chat at the bar. one in a polo shirt and jeans, the other in bike leathers. with suspenders. his helmet on the bar beside him. he's sure of himself, yells good-natured (if rather bad-taste) remarks at the dancers.
sitting in a corner is a tall, thin man who once in a while gets up to give advice to the guy figuring out the cd player in the corner. when he stands he becomes a character from a b-grade western.his shoulders rounded, clothed in a crisp white singlet top, tight jeans, boots and moustache. he walks like a primate, stooped and languid.
the table next to me is occupied by an elderly man, he looks sad watching the 'youngsters' strutting their stuff.
we endure their painful renditions of classics by the likes of elvis, george michael, elton john. for some reason the guy who is singing keeps chucking out random comments like "ladies and gentlemen, elton JOHN!!" and "next up a wee number by..."
is that odd, or is it just me? surely he needen't introduce himself? luckily though his voice was pleasant enough. the highlight was YMCA, sung with gusto and badly orchestrated moves by the four hair-dos.
at irregular intervals the music is interrupted by the sound of a clattering avalanch of coins from around the corner [use of gaming machines prohibited by those under 18 years of age]. eventually our winner emerges... resplendent in an ocean of pink and white... hair and skin included. she waddles over to hubby, that awkward looking man alone at the table beside mine, mutters something to him and makes her way outside for a smoke.
i sit back and swig from my drink... having thrown aside those little straws they insist on sticking in womens' drinks. eventually a smile creeps on to my face, i relax into the mangy bar-stool and my gaze turns to the walls. ooh, a crossbow! and is that really a numbchuck? yes, it seems so.
deciding that i've seen enough, i finish my drink, smile at the bar maid, and make my way to the door, weaving through the gaggle of gyrating laydees, past the crooners, and onwards out into the night.
i grin to myself, and wander the 20 minutes home.
YES, ANOTHER ONE...
I am 28% White Trash.
The white trash in my blood will not keep me from becoming a doctor or a lawyer, but it will keep me from a good haircut and any sort of fashion sense.Thursday, February 17, 2005
HOW IT ALL STARTED
a couple of years ago i decided that it was time for a change of scene, so i went up to hawkes bay for a while. it was nice, though i wasn't in the best mental and emotional state. despite that fact it was good to get away. after about 6 weeks i realised that i didn't have to prove my independence and strength to anyone, and i decided to go back to christchurch and accept support from my friends.
which worked out rather well really, and i had the good fortune to be introduced to a friend's new shag. i liked him immediately, and we struck up a friendship quite quickly. it soon became a friendship that was very important to me, he was someone who shared a lot of my oddball interests (frogs.. ahem) and what's more... got my jokes! that, dear readers, doesn't happen often. we spent many an hour talking books, art, zoology, and watching the freaks and weirdos from our glass box while drinking too much coffee (him latte, me flat white). much laughter, much madness. and a lot of very much appreciated support and love.
after an incident involving pHector the Dog, i came to the pleasant realisation that i was likely to be friends with this boy for a long time.
happy birthday jeff, i love you.
which worked out rather well really, and i had the good fortune to be introduced to a friend's new shag. i liked him immediately, and we struck up a friendship quite quickly. it soon became a friendship that was very important to me, he was someone who shared a lot of my oddball interests (frogs.. ahem) and what's more... got my jokes! that, dear readers, doesn't happen often. we spent many an hour talking books, art, zoology, and watching the freaks and weirdos from our glass box while drinking too much coffee (him latte, me flat white). much laughter, much madness. and a lot of very much appreciated support and love.
after an incident involving pHector the Dog, i came to the pleasant realisation that i was likely to be friends with this boy for a long time.
happy birthday jeff, i love you.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
THE EXPLANATION
"my mind kept wondering....you came in after a good night out,used it for support and the thing broke off............a giant rodent chewed its way through the pipe and the thing toppled,you upset your resident little people and this is their revenge (in which case you must leave out a saucer of milk or spirits as apology)......"
lassy 02.13.05 - 5:06 am
the third one. definately.
lassy 02.13.05 - 5:06 am
the third one. definately.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
AA
time to re-adjust to a sibling back in town.
sick, tail between legs, looking for help.
needing it badly, and finally admitting to it.
isn't that step 1...?
gotta be the supportive little sis for a bit.
not sure if i'm up to it. i'll give it a shot though.
sometimes you need to get over your bitterness to help someone out, right?
*big sigh*
sick, tail between legs, looking for help.
needing it badly, and finally admitting to it.
isn't that step 1...?
gotta be the supportive little sis for a bit.
not sure if i'm up to it. i'll give it a shot though.
sometimes you need to get over your bitterness to help someone out, right?
*big sigh*
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