A Star by Any Other Name...

Forget people dying in floods, earthquakes, or giving up on the guys in the mine. The sizzling hot news of the moment is Ophiuchus.

Apparently, astrologers failed to take into account the wobbly tilt of the earth, the movement of the sun between constellations, and of course the fact that it's all a crock of sheissenhausen. None of this is too surprising. Putting on a boho skirt and running around barefoot has been scientifically proven to cause significantly reduced brain function. Or perhaps it's the other way round. Also, I made up the scientifically part.

Anyway, ostensibly because of all this, there's now a 13th sign of the Zodiac - Ophiuchus. The real reason is because of Virgo. After all, it's the 21st century, everyone's stopped listening to the Jonas Brothers, and virgins are so passé. So along comes Ophiuchus - the dude with the ugly name that sounds like someone's trying to swear and swallow raw oysters at the same time - and Ophiuchus, handily enough, is the serpent holder. He sidles up to her, and goes "Hey good lookin', I'm new here in the zodiac. Wanna hold my snake?"

Oh, Virgo. He won't call you in the morning.

Every guy is going to want to be this sign. Ophiuchus is bad-ass. 

But the astrologers aren't worried about Virgo, soon to be re-named Preggo. Their beef is that with 13 signs now, everything needed a re-jig. Once an Aquarius, I am now a Capricorn. The horror! No longer can I reject the Leos because my Aquarian aloofness would annoy their stereotypical pride. Actually, my whole personality is going to have to change. No more am I aloof and creative - now I'm just careful and a bit stuck-up. Ah, woe!

Because this has only just come out, the battered weekly magazines in the staffroom with the pictures of Charlize Theron in a low-cut top mysteriously cut out probably won't have your 'new' sign in them yet. As I know you're all keen to know about meeting strangers and planning trips and avoiding financial pitfalls, I have kindly put together your horoscope for Monday, the 17th of January. 

Capricorn Jan 20 - Feb 16
A handsome stranger will walk by without looking at you. You will get black stuff on your face when you're cleaning and your nose gets itchy.

Aquarius Feb 16 - Mar 11
You will run out of milk. Also, you will be annoyed by something you watch on TV. Don't kill the yappy dog two doors down - it's just crazy enough to come back as a zombie dog like the animals did in Pet Sematary.

Pisces Mar 11- Apr 18
You have spinach between your teeth.

Aries Apr 18- May 13
Today you will fall madly in love with the way your hair looks in the mirror. Unfortunately it's windy and your perfect hair day will end as soon as you step outside. 

Taurus May 13- Jun 21
You or someone you care about will get fired. You will hope it's someone you care about instead of you.

Gemini Jun 21- Jul 20
You're going to win lotto. For serious.

Cancer Jul 20- Aug 10
The doctor's going to give you some bad news. But at least you'll be able to laugh at the irony.

Leo Aug 10- Sep 16
Your cat will bring you a dead bird. You will tell him or her off but you will secretly be proud. If you really have to watch that porn, at least clear the browsing history. Your brother doesn't need to know you're into that.

Virgo Sep 16- Oct 30
The supermarket will sell out of your favourite brand of shampoo. You'll hit an old lady with your trolley and she's going to whack you with her walking stick. You probably deserve it. Also, you're pregnant.

Libra Oct 30- Nov 23
You'll  be visited by Aunt Flo later in the evening. Cancel your date.

Scorpio Nov 23- Nov 29
Tonight you will go out on the town and begin singing the 'Scorpio Girls' song to a girl in a bar because you still think, after all this time, that it's funny. You don't sound anything like Supergroove and she's going to go home with the bald guy instead. You'll get the lonely fat girl in the corner if you want, though.

Ophiuchus Nov 29- Dec 17
You only just found out you were this sign, and now you're about to find out you're adopted, too.

Sagittarius Dec 17- Jan 20
You're going to sneeze on your boss. One of those gross ones, with the big blob of green phlegm. Oh, and your significant other used the last of the toilet paper. Keep the yellow pages handy.

For auld lang syne, my friend

I think that I'm officially over new  years.

Logically, there should be nothing terribly special about the beginning of a new year. I'm fairly convinced that years actually only exist because somewhere, lost in the mists of history, stationery stores were struggling. Some enterprising young sales assistant was suddenly hit with an "Aha!" moment and dropped the pile of stone tablets inscribed with Dan Brown's latest flop he'd been dusting to run and tell his boss.

"Boss, boss!" he cried. "I've figured out a way to save us all! Why don't we cut up the time periods into these things called "years"? We could then break it down into "months" and then "days"."

The boss thought he was crazy, and prepared to feed him to a lion which happened to be browsing the computer consumbables aisle.

"But don't you see?" pleaded the salesman. "Everyone would have to buy this thing called a "calendar", every year, just to keep track of the days, months and years. We'll have gold for Africa!"

"What's Africa?" puzzled the boss, and fed the salesman to the lion anyway. But he did take the idea and run with it, and he did indeed make piles and piles of gold, which kept him in good spirits until his death five years later when a stack of stone calendars he'd forgotten to take down fell off his wall and crushed him like a bug.

Anyway.

Since the dawn of the current millenium, new years have without fail brought something bad. Perhaps I accidentally stepped on the wrong reincarnated-wizard-spider that year. Who knows? Either way, something has it in for me during the holiday season.

Last year, I was so sick I thought I was going to die. Missed all the barbeques and parties and everything. This year, I thought, I'll make up for it and party myself stupid. (It would perhaps have been helpful if someone had informed me I didn't need to party, the deed was already done). Instead I saw in 2011 watching episodes of M*A*S*H and drinking a glass of milk and tears. 

For those of you who haven't been following my whiny emo Facebook statuses lately, me and vampire boy are now quits. So instead of having fun in the sun with not a care in the world, I find myself unable to eat or sleep or keep mascara in place. Wah.

So, I have come up with a plan. There will be no 2012. This time twelve months hence, I will be dating my forms 3/13/2011. Twenty-four months from now, it'll be 3/25/2011. The plan is infallible.

Who's with me?

A Christmas Tree... in November

A few days ago, I put my Christmas tree up. Yes, early. I've been informed that it's bad luck to do that before December. But I figured hey, if all the stores can do it, and Ballantynes even dare to do their huge, nightmare-invoking creepy moving, talking window display shenanigans, then why not me too?

Well, it turns out I shouldn't have been so hasty to scoff at the superstitious weirdoes. Either it is bad luck, or I've somehow managed to spill a ton of salt on a mountain of broken mirrors and haven't noticed. ('cause I totally believe in that too). I'm having one of those weeks where you just know getting out of bed is a terrible idea.

Here's a random poem to illustrate the excrementality of my mood. I was trying to write a happy thing to make myself feel better.

Monday

The coffee in the bottom of the pot is too strong

Oily; and through its film

She imagines she can taste

The fulcrum on which everything rests.

Bagpipes are playing across the square.

It’s that tune that bagpipes always play

The one that everyone knows

But no one can name.

Happiness fail. But before I depress you to death, or worse, alienate every one of my reader (not a typo, unfortunately), I guess I'd better provide some funnies. 

Roll the NZDating hilarity!

HIM: Howz it going cutie
HIM: What you upto tonyte
ME: Polishing my special text-speaking-people assassination knife.
HIM: True so do you like what you see at all Cauz you look pretty dam hot
ME: Yeah, the blade's all shiny and stabby and beautiful and oh, so ready to go.
HIM: Btw you pretty dam hot and cute
HIM: Let me know when you wana talk about yourself other then the "KNIFE" lol xoxo
HIM: Hay cutie what you doing
ME: Sitting at my computer fervently hoping you will just shut up and go away. :(

HIM: Does it matter that I look like Quasi?
ME: Yes.

HIM: hello anne,havu had n ntrestng dae? or same shit dffrnt dae lol.luv ur complection
ME: jklsdj jioennu u839whuies dhguysghj. llpio! sdhfieh :)
HIM: holefeelucknnell wtf?
ME: Oh sorry, I thought I was speaking your language.

About A Boy

Whoa. It turns out it's been a while since I've blogged. I could whine about killing my computer (I'm sure it was traumatised by the earthquake - nothing to do with the way I treat my laptops... honest). Or I could say it's all your fault for not commenting on my posts to make me feel loved. Really though I've just been lazy. Also I've been kissing a boy.

Yes, I finally got conned into being in 'a relationship'. He makes me coffee in the mornings. Never underestimate the power of coffee over a girl's heart. Plus his Mum likes me. That was enough of a novelty to make me curious.

Nah. Seriously I like him because he's a vampire. All the kids tell me that's so 'in' right now.

Never fear, however! I still have my NZDating profile (albeit with an updated 'relationship status'). I know it's the only reason anyone reads these things. 

So, some things you missed over the past two months:

HIM: I just signed up to this thing and your the first message Ive sent. Your profile made me laugh, and you had me writting a message right after the part where you own books without pictures, Im an american so I dont know how to read. Im visiting your country this summer for two or three months. I live in alaska, im not as blond as you, 33yrs old, am a little better looking than you, and like to joke around and have fun. I dont know if this is going to go through so Ill keep it short, ohh im two meters tall plus a tiny bit.
ME: Ahahahaha, you think you're attractive. You're right. You do like to joke around.

HIM:  lol wat about idiots that can read . mm you're pretty sexy . ive seen you online alot . just didnt have the balls to message ya . wat part of town ya from ? hope to hear back from ya . oh and if ya want a pic i can send one via cell
ME: I'm from hidingfromyouville. It's a great suburb. Lots of people here.

HIM: a little puzzled Ok you seem great, interesting and funny but you are in a relationship. Also please explain what a semi-colon is? Sounds messy...id rather let a doctor deal with that....i have a whole intact colon so im fine.
ME: So... if I'm in a relationship, I shouldn't be great, interesting and funny? Last time I checked, the two states were not mutually exclusive. Hope this clears up the puzzlement.

HIM: hey. how are you? my name's stu.. am 29. i'm into having a good time... enjoy sport's. i am the youngest of four. and have five nephew's. would you like to chat. and go from there?
ME: Hi. I have a boyfriend and know where the apostrophe goes. Here's a clue: it's not in the doughnut.

Shake shake shake... shake shake shake...

I've been told that blogging about the earthquake is the done thing. The truth is, I'm a bit bored of the earthquake. After a whole week of nothing but earthquake talk, I think I'd rather discuss wigs for kittens. Or perhaps the proper etiquette for licking your plate.

Yet, it happened. I was in a tree house at the time, having a three-way with John Key and Paul Holmes. (No, not really, but it makes the earthquake seem almost pleasant in comparison, doesn't it?!).

In reality, I woke up in the doorway, unable to see anything because all the lights had gone out, having no idea quite how I'd got there. I then proceeded to sob "please stop please stop please please please stop" while my mind went "Oh, right. That emergency kit you were going to get around to updating? ...Yeah..." Then I heard glass smashing and that's when it became A Real Earthquake. A Real Earthquake is something you see in the movies, or on the news in one of those places you have a sneaking suspicion they may have made up, like Haiti or Auckland.

As soon as the shaking stopped, I had an undeniable urge to be anywhere other than underneath another storey in an apartment I hadn't ever wondered at the strength of. So I hightailed it outside in my trackies and my trusty XT t-shirt, complemented nicely by a big coat and my black flats with the bows on them, and accessorised with panda eyes and frizzy ex-ponytail hair.

Luckily there were no streetlights. I cursed myself for having picked that day to try giving up smoking again. There were only three left in the packet. I smoked them all within half an hour while I answered calls and texts. I don't think I've ever been so popular.

I met my neighbours, which was something. I wonder why we chose to wait for the building to almost fall down around us before we introduced ourselves. Perhaps we did it then in case one of us ended up falling through the ceiling onto another's kitchen floor. In that situation, "Thanks for dropping in, uh... er... um... thanks for dropping in," could be awkward.

One neighbour was particularly nice and let me sit in her car where it was warm. She was wearing trackies and badly-matched shoes too. We listened to the radio and smoked her cigarettes until the sun came up. Then I went and bought cigarettes from the dairy before the cordons were brought in. Priorities.

I even have an earthquake injury! Well, kind of. I fell through a grate when a friend dropped me off and I didn't think about what could be in the gutter. I got stuck and they had to help haul me out and my boot filled up with gross muddy water. Now my knees are all bruised black and purple.

But hey! It could be worse - at least it's not a John Key/Paul Holmes threesome sex injury. (*shudder*).

By popular request, I wrote a song about the earthquake. It's called "4:35". I hope you like it. Try to pretend you can't hear the wheezing from all those cigarettes on the high notes.

Mansoon

So it seems it's Mansoon season once again.

For those not familiar with the concept, Mansoon season is that time when, after months or even years of nobody giving you a second look, let alone the time of day, it's like you've suddenly turned into Megan Fox, inherited a brewery and won the lotto, all overnight. Seemingly every guy friend, random, old flame and Adidas-wearing guy with B.O. who sings to himself at the bus stop* has decided you're not so repulsive after all and they wouldn't mind spending some quality time with you. It's bewildering, flattering, and temporary.

I've even gone on two actual dates - almost like a grown-up! Not as cool as Ally's fancy restaurant date, of course, but still, dates.

Over the years, my gal pals and I have theorised endlessly as to why this phenomenon occurs. Is it the time of year? Some ancestral throwback to the best time for cave gentleman and cave ladies to make cave babies? Or does it happen because we've finally accepted we'll be alone forever, and nature has decided it would be a beautiful irony?

Whatever the reason, Mansoon season invariably ends the same way. Confronted with such a smorgasbord of choices, I end up deciding on none, pissing them all off and they all run away again and leave me drinking wine and talking to my cat.

With this in mind, I've going to get into my comfy pants, eat a steak and cuddle up on the couch with my kitty and a romantic comedy until the rain blows away and all is normal again. And because this has not been a very funny post, here are some NZDating one-line wonders for you.

HIM: hi want to fuck
ME: hi want to fuck off?

HIM: *WARNING TEXT ALERT* Jokes :P ummm text language... wait how would that work if i cant text you? aka message you here? damn i'm outta luck then i guess
ME: I guess you are.

HIM: I honestly would hope that after spending 4 years at Uni and obtaining a BA in Psychology as well as commencing a Masters, if I didn't know how to string a sentence together I'd be pritty pissed. I am a hot nerd. I know how to take care of myself and those around me. I just hope that because I'm 22 that you don't rule me out.
ME: Oh no. I ruled you out because you misspelled "pretty".

HIM: Keen 4 a fuck sexy
ME: Why yes! Do you have an attractive friend that wants to do me?

HIM: hello how are you and really you have two beautiful eyes
ME: Yeah, the third one is pretty ugly.

* I made this bit up. I think that guy thinks I'm weird.

Pinny Nation!

Last weekend I did something I hadn't done in a long, long time... I took a holiday.

A real life girls' weekend, like normal people take! We drove to Geraldine (huge thanks to Emma for letting us invade her family holiday place!) and got stuck straight into the wine.

There was a catch, however... this was not just any girls' weekend - this was the Pinny Nation girls' weekend. That's right. I sewed.

Those of you who know me will be gasping with shock and horror right now. The most domestic thing I do is occasionally swipe at the bathroom sink when the toothpaste ickies get too thick. I can't cut in a straight line (I even failed at colouring-in when I was five). And if you've ever thrown me something breakable, you'll know that I have no hand-eye co-ordination whatsoever.

Still, this was a rite of passage... it had to be done.

Sure, it took many hours of swearing like a sailor, many more G&T's, and my fingertips resembled colanders filled with tomato, but in the end, I had a pinny!

The pinny of amazingness

Try not to look too closely - the pockets have holes in them, and I kept cutting the blue ribbon tape too short so there are bits kind of tacked on here and there to fill the gaps. Shut up. It's a pinny. And I made it.

With that done, we wore our pinnies around town and then got more drunk and ate lots. It rained and the yard flooded so we drank more.

The outdoor bath doubles as a rowboat when required

A 'Pinny Nation' flag was made but the sequins fell off so to fix it there was more wine. And we did facials too. Don't smoke with a tinfoil mask on your face. Don't ask why - just don't. Trust me.

I liked the paraffin bath that made my hands look like they were dead. It was satisfyingly creepy.

Braaaaaiiiiiins!

In honour of Pinny Nation, and my newfound seamstress goddess status, I give you a sewing-themed NZDating conversation (as always, completely real).

28 year old Male from West Coast seeking Relationships

HIM: hey there hows it gong? just wondering have ya got webcam?

ME: Hi there! Yes, I do. Do you have an 1889 vintage Singer sewing machine with treadle?

HIM: yeah i do u should add me on msn if your up for some fun or like to watch

ME: You'd let me watch you sew? On camera?

HIM: yep if your keen add me st*********22@windowslive.com im keen as hun

ME: It depends. What are you going to be sewing?

HIM: my cock hun
r u going to add me hun

ME: Interesting... so what'll it be? A wee foreskin dress so you can put makeup on it and pretend it's a little girl puppet?

HIM: yeah honey thats the one

ME: What colour thread are you using? This is important.

HIM: white i think

ME: Oh, no. Sorry, I'll give it a miss.