Month: March 2008

So now I’m thirty-something. But, I will NEVER be ‘A Thirty-Something’. I’ll wait until I’m forty before I start talking about my house renovations, and how little Suze and/or Cruz are this much ahead of their age average at such-and-such, and how much I love the new line from some goddamn furniture store.

Anyway – it’s been a while since Paddy’s Day. Since then, I’ve been housesitting, pretty much. And didn’t realise I’d been given the wrong keys until Dom&Caro were long gone. So, I resigned myself to not leaving the house for a week. Big change, right? Luckily I’d been given the thumbs up to the well-stocked liquor cabinet, and a couple of trays of beer. And a cat to keep me company. The main problem was going to be if I was offered a job interview. I tried to figure out a way of leaving the house without leaving it unlocked – but couldn’t. I had the key for the back door – but the back yard fence was topped with some daunting barbed wire. Closest I got was possibly asking Pen to take time off work to sit in the house while I was out. Which I actually did on the second night, while I went grocery shopping. And while I was gone, she found some keys that were the right ones. My own search had been shown up as piss-poor. But, now I had the ability to go out’n’about. Unfortunately, I’d already accepted my fate as being trapped indoors – and despite being given the key to outside (so to speak), I did not take the offer. So, a week of television, beer, and a friendly cat. During which I turned thirty-something. And celebrated by eating left-overs for breakfast and lunch, drinking beer, and making a lancashire hotpot with NZ lamb chops.

And then Saturday came, so I fed the cat his daily due, and came home – in order to serve bloody marys to people during an afternoon-tea type ‘do’ for Pen’s birthday. (She’s now thirty, wrinkly, forgetful, has blue-rinse hair, and has put her hip out three times already. Did I mention incontinent?) So – a full day of bloody marys, wine, snacks, etc. Justin educated us all on Hannibal of Carthage, I did my spiel on scientology, and Pen got drunk enough to think that giving our bedroom to everybody else would be a good idea so that we could stay up all night watching action movies. I talked her out of that.

And now it is today. A fairly large mission to clean up the place, considering it was supposed to be a civilised tea-party. And now that is done, I’ve got myself a bottle of slightly-delicious “slightly sparkling perry”. Named Lambrini, with 7.5% booze. And considering watching some 70’s B-grade action, starring David Carradine & Sylvester Stallone. Before it gets ruined in a 2008 remake starring Jason stinkin’ Statham.

Oh – and I’ve decided that a birthday is the proper time to make new year slightly-resolutions. A slightly resolution is a resolution which isn’t statutory – but merely “try to do more of”. Mine for this year:

– go commando

– drink water

– eat breakfast

Yes yes, I know that the catholic church moved it this year. But when was the last time I listened to them? So… despite expecting some phone calls regarding a couple of very promising jobs – I’ve decided to celebrate St Paddy’s Day. Not sure if I should turn my phone off, or trust myself to answer appropriately. I seem to be going down the path of making that decision when it’s too late.

10:00 – after a breakfast of Guinness, I go to the supermarket. No boxes of Guinness left, so I am forced to purchase a tray. Along with the ingredients for irish stew. I also spend a very long time trying to find cans of irish stew, but end up with very sore arms from holding a tray of beer, and a couple of cans of “Highlander’s Broth” – with a description remarkably similar to irish stew. I suspect the english did the same thing to irish stew as the seppos did to french fries.

11:00 – get home, and take a couple of photos of my preparations for the day. Coffee table filled with Guinness, potatoes, ingredients for irish stew (including potatoes), Oscar Wilde’s Complete Short Fiction, and more potatoes. Start to drink more Guinness.

13:00 – 5 down. Hayden reckoned he was going to attempt a shot at his family record, or some such. Twenty-two, I believe. He’s actually got oirish ancestry, apparently – although I would have thought an irishman could do at least dirty-tree. Me – I’m just drinking coz I got nothing else to do. Oh, and joining with our fellow ‘colony’ oppressed by the evil english overlords. Especially after the bastards beat us at the Basin.

Hello especially to everybody at Finn McCool’s.

15:30 – 8 down, feeling fine. After considering the options, a decision was made that a Guinness is NOT a meal in itself, and some Highlanders Broth was had. Oscar Wilde confirms my initial impressions of being a less sarky version of Saki. (sarky – sarcastic, Saki – an author (pen-name), not the booze)

18:00 – starting to cook some irish stew for the old lady. Should probably try to compensate for the possibility that I may be rather intoxicated when she arrives home. A drunken attempt at cooking should do that. High risk, I admit. Especially with a gas oven, and fairly sharp knives. But, everything’s fine so far. Except my lining up a play-list of all oirish music – which I will listen to at random, even as Boyzone comes on (as Ronan is telling me, No Matter What). Why oh why didn’t St Patrick do something about Ronan and Bono? If there was a god, he’d let Paddy come back and have another go. 11 Guinness down by the way – starting to suspect my purchase of two doz was rather optimistic.

20:00 – Pen got home early. So I got caught drinkin’ me booze. Oops. Irish stew turns out remarkably well for being made by a chap who’s had 15 Guinnesses at this point. The late addition of kumara to make it kiwi irish stew nearly ruined thanksgiving – but all is well at the end. Pen demands television with dinner – so I managed to find some Black Books for our viewing pleasure. A welcome relief from Bono telling me how to live my life, and Ronan telling me how life is a rollercoaster.

22:30 – as expected, it’s not the chap who’s now got 17 Guiness in his belly, but the Old Lady who is the first to tip over the empty cans. And yes, it is a bit poseurish to set them all up together while I’m drinking it, but then again – what am I if not a poseur. A poseur who can back that shit up. And for the purposes of photos – for my old friends back in Quito – I do like to show off that I’ve got Guinness. And leftover irish stew. Hayden, if you read this before I can find you, gimme a call, eh?

11:59 -Well, the ‘day’ is nearly over. I’ve drunk lots of Guinness; I’ve eaten/drunk/cooked/brewed a fair bit of irish stew; I’ve talked to people in Quito – and cried like a little girl; I’ve tried to talk to people in Aotearoa, and failed like a little girl. Now I’m going to finish my Guiness. It would probably be best if I gave up like a little girl. But.

02:30 -Finally talked to Hayden. Sounded sober and back in control of the farm, not much time for drunken international phonecalls. Fairnuff. Several attempts at talking to Quito – foiled each time. Closest I got was talking to some guy (seppo, maybe canadiot?) – who went to find Ursula or Lee. And then I heard Ally find the phone unhooked, so she hung it up. Foiled. Earlier though – had managed in different calls to talk to Ursula, and Ally. Each time – tears in eyes. Possibly the first time I’ve ever felt homesick is when I left Finn’s. And I’m from Aotearoa – so that’s pretty bloody cool.

Ah – the Gonzo thing. Well, 22 beers down. Am feeling rather drunk – got to the point where I have to re-read things I’ve typed. And doubt my own judgement. But I’d still trust myself to mastermind an assassination attempt against Bono – just to solve the Troubles. Sure – just for that.

03:00 – I think I might be drunk. Clumsy fingers.

03:10 – Yep, a man has to admit when he’s drunk. And drunk I am. Another two Guinesses would be foolishness. So – I’m figuring that after this one, it’s all over. It’ll have been 23 Guinnesses, 9 unanswered calls to Quito, 10 unanswered calls to Reporoa, and 1 unanswered question.

03:50 – Right, I’m off.  Had a chat to Heather back at home.   Tears in the eyes while checking up on my god-daughter and might-as-well-be-god-daughter.  So what?  Got tears in the eyes – that’s gonzo.  And that’s time for the night to finish.  4am – 23 Guiness down, and luckily(?) no calls from job-people.

My fortune cookie told me “Your kindred spirit is vodka.” That works on SO many levels. And proves booze is my destiny.

Got boozed up on Saturday night. Pot-luck dinner at James’ place. Pen got boozed too. I considered hinting to her rather early on that maybe she should cut back – but figured it was already too late for that to go any way other than badly. Lose-lose situation really. Oh well – at least she didn’t do anything silly until we’d left James’ place – and couldn’t remember anything in the morning. Myself – had a hangover. Anytime I mix drinks nowadays, it’s badness. Even mixing red wine and white wine. And, I suspect, just different bottles of wine within one colour. I see a New Year’s resolution forming for next year. Along with some others – which I’m considering implementing as Mid Year’s Resolutions…

– Start using a spoon as much as possible, instead of a fork.

– Drink only one type of booze each night.

– One word: Commando.

– Eat breakfast.

And others I can’t remember just now.

Job hunt is still exactly that. Had my first interview last week – via telephone. Got the “no” phone call the next day. Fair enough – it was for a team lead position, and my general dislike of any person who isn’t me might hinder my ability to do that role well. Otherwise – it would’ve been great. In Scotland, at a university. A university which has Nursing as one of it’s three main faculties. (Yes – it’s one of those establishments which has taken advantage of the extreme relaxing of the rules as to what can be called a university.)

So – have spent most of my time making my way through the bookshelf. About to start some Oscar Wilde. Anyone with so many great quotes mustn’t be too bad. I guess I’ll have to try James Joyce at some point – although any book which has a ‘guide’ to accompany and explain it – sounds like hard work.

Anyway – must get back to all the things I have to do. Reading books, thinking of things to research on the internet (went through the history of the Irish ‘Troubles’ last week), and expanding my cuilinary repertoire.  Oh – and after finally repairing my photo album thing, I’ve had to completely restock it.  So – the link to Photos should now work, and I am part way through repopulating the sucka with photos.  Far too much work to do all the captions and what-not.  But, once I’ve uploaded all the photos, and I’ve run out of other projects – that’ll be on the list.

So, still unemployed. And another weekend out and about. Mike’s birthday – so some wine and such at a little wine bar. Then, watched England beat France at a local bar. Infuriating. Met some nice local folk though – and to be fair, England deserved the win. Read some newspaper man write an article saying that if it takes two awful performances to provide one good one, then the upside is that they will beat NZ in Auckland. If so – I hope I’m still unemployed.

Anyway – after this – Dom took us to another bar. Turned out to be full of actors/actresses. Aspiring, of course. But you know how these folk are, they actually believe they really are actors/actresses. After a little while, I got bored – and decided to have some fun. Didn’t take me long. Within one minute, I had a group of folk hanging off my every word. All I did was mention that I was from New Zealand, newly arrived, with a ‘new project’ in mind. ‘Looking for some local talent’. All very vaguely. Far too easy. Suddenly I realised an unforeseen side-effect – free drinks. Got pretty tired of the constant sucking-up though – and by that time it was just Mike & I remaining. I decided on one more suggestion, to show my power over them to Mike. Got a James Dean lookalike to ask the piano player to sing Happy Birthday for Mike. Done. James Dean had asked me to promise many times that I wouldn’t leave without getting his details. He must have been gutted when Mike & I snuck away.

Then – I trusted Mike with getting home. Silly. He couldn’t focus enough to read the bus maps. So – we got on a random one. Silliness ensues. Eventually we got off somewhere, and got a taxi. And then Mike went to play football. Badly, by the sounds of it. And that was last weekend.

This weekend – nothing so exciting. Could have gone to the Sicilian bar. I got an SMS message during the week – asking who ‘Kruse’ was, and why I was in this chap’s cellphone contacts. I figured it must be either the kiwi we met a couple of weeks back, or the chap I sat at the bar with the weekend previous. After a little while we figured it was the latter. I believe the chap was a little gutted that ‘Kruse’ didn’t turn out to be female. He let me know that he was going to be at the same bar last night anyway – but I stayed in for an exciting night of nothing.

Oh – caught up with an old friend from high school on Thursday also. Did the normal thing of comparing which other people we’d seen since school. Luckily Pen wasn’t there, or else she’d have used it as justification for her doing similar every time she’s in the same room as a fellow Palmy Girls’ alumni. Our chat only lasted one hour or so though.