Vroom

When I drove to the gym today there was a red Ferrari parked in the space next to where I normally park. I excitedly parked right next to it. It made my tiny Daihatsu Charade look like a behemoth SUV in comparison. I also noticed that the gear stick of the Ferrari was tiny. I’m not sure if it’s possible to feel very manly when you’re playing with a little cocktail swizzle stick to change gears.

Speaking of cars, the very cool BBC series “Top Gear” is being shown on Prime at 7.30 on Sundays. Hooray! I’m not sure I’m even into cars – or at least not in the way that involves buying magazines with “auto” or “motor” in their titles, and certainly not in a way that involves buying and wearing items of clothing with automobile logos on them, but I like Top Gear. It makes obsessing over cars interesting and fun. As well as taking cool cars for test drives, they also do bloody stupid stuff, like seeing if it’s possible to outrun a speed camera in a really fast car. Next week they promise to show grans doing wheelies.

My brother was in town so I dragged him along to see “Freaky Friday”. I hadn’t noticed it the first time, but there was a brief scene where a guy delivers a package to daughter-as-mother at her office. The delivery guy’s name is Boris, and he’s played by the same actor who played Boris Harris in the original “Freaky Friday”. I think it was a nice touch.

We had dinner at Tanuki’s Cave. Whenever I go there, there always seem to be couples hidden away in dark corners, guys impressing their dates with uncommon, but not scary food, Japanese beer and sake, and the ’70s soul soundtrack. When the waitress brought us our desserts, she said, “Here comes the apple, and now here comes the banana.” People who learn English as a second language do the coolest things with it.

Oh look, it’s past midnight. That means it’s my birthday and now I’m 29. Hooray!

Clones

Lately whenever I go to Ponsonby (which isn’t all that often) I seem to come across thirty-something parents with small daughters called Ruby or Lily. What’s it going to be like at Ponsonby Primary School in a couple of years time? “Ruby T, stop hitting Lily B! No, the other Ruby T.”

I know names like that were popular baby names about a hundred years ago, so I’m sure these people are naming their kids after their grandmothers. I wish someone would have the guts to come out and name their baby Gran.

For about the last year I’ve been having major angst with the DVD player on my iBook. It lets me change the zone five times, then on the fifth time it locks. Ok, cool. But when I got up to the fifth change it kept giving me this weird error message. The Apple website was not helpful. Other websites were not helpful. Then last night I did another search and found the answer. To change the zone for the final time requires a DVD that has only one zone on it. The ones I’d been trying with were zones 2 and 4. So today I went to Video Ezy in Ponsonby (where Ruby was picking a DVD), got a DVD only for zone 4 and have changed my DVD player zone to zone 4 so now I can rent all the DVDs I like and never have to leave the house much this summer. Hooray!

DVDs make an ideal Christmas or BIRTHDAY gift.

Movie star/frumpy hobag

It turns out that I now have an entry on the Internet Movie Database.

Yes, I am immortalised there for my part as Waiting Room Woman in Andy Conlan’s brilliant 2003 short film “Soulmate”. I had no dialogue, but I did have to giggle with excitement, which was difficult to do on cue, until Andy starting saying “www dot peaches and cream dot co dot nz” which made me giggle like a little girl.

In fact, here is a pic from that scene:

Regarding the costume: I was trying to do the stripy top with a polar fleece vest thing. Unfortunately the only stripy top I owned had dark purple, crimson and navy blue stripes, which didn’t have the same effect as, say navy blue and white. I didn’t have a polar fleece vest, so I had to borrow one from a friend. It was one from some sort of conference and was about two sizes too big. As a result it makes me look like I have no tits and a huge arse, which is perfect because the character is a frumpy hobag.

Wanna see the film? You can see it at New Zealand Short Films.

Hints and tips

At the gym today I was reading a magazine and noticed someone had scribbled a note on one page. It said:

[name] book

First draft – Write with my soul and heart. Don’t think – write.

Second draft – Write with my mind!

K’Lee goes to my gym, but she wasn’t the author.

Things I Have Recently Acquired

The Small Print Zine
At the Small Print zine fair, there was a zine making table for people to create a page or two for a collective zine. Moira collected up all the pages and make them into a zine and posted a copy to me. I contributed two bits. “Miss, please take a letter”, about my close personal relationship with typewriters and “Ahoy”, about how ferries are the mode of public transport least likely to have a zine dedicated to them.

Blisters
Hardcore blisters. The kind that only soldiers and runway models get. I wore my cool new shoes for the first time. My feet need to harden up.

A Wedding Invitation
A fellow I know is getting married and has been kind enough to send me an invitation. It’s an unconventional set up. Rather than actually being an invitation to the wedding, it’s for a cocktail party the following day. Kind of like a traditional wedding reception, but cooler. This is exciting because it is the first wedding event of a non-relative I’ve been invited to. Actually, counting relatives it’s the second wedding I’ve been invited to. No one gets married anymore.

Bust Magazine
It’s not so much that I bought the magazine, but I noticed something interesting in Magazzino. A few months ago I noticed that Ponsonby Magazzino had put Bust in the gay magazines section. I complained here about how silly this was as Bust is not a gay magazine, and suggested it be filed with other interesting women’s magazines like Jane. Today I noticed that Bust was in the women’s magazines section, right next to Jane. Right on.

A haircut
“You know what I reckon,” my hairdresser probed. “I reckon we should leave some long bits here. Let it go a bit mad.” “Oh yes,” I ejaculated. “Give me mad hair!” She ended up straightening it with the irons, so it didn’t look at all that mad when I got home, but then I washed it and it’s gone deliciously mad. I took a photo to capture my straight, blonder, non-bad hair.