Hi everyone. Just a quick note to let you all know that there is a new photo file under the "My Photos Page" link to the right. It stars one Tamara Peace, and if features the events of her getting inked at Planet Tattoo here in Christchurch. The other person in a few of the photos is Steve, the tattooist. He did a hell of a job, and it only made me want to get my next one... soon.
So the good news is that I've been looking over my finances over the past couple days, and it looks like I'll be above target. This means that I'm going to have more room to play around and decide what I want to do next, and it also means that if I did want to think about getting my pegasus stars done then I can start to seriously consider it.
At any rate, enjoy the photos, and Tam's little piece of art. I like it.
29 August 2005
26 August 2005
Hair and Cake - A Beautiful Mix
I'm sure by now you will have figured out that I've been and had my hair cut. Here's the low-down on how it went...
I got there bright and early, right on time at 10.00am. That's in the morning, by the way (shown by using the "am" after the numbers, in case you couldn't figure it out). I was greeted with a hello and asked if I wanted a drink. I chose orange juice, and thought to myself "Wow, I get refreshments AND a free haircut??!!" I was asked to fill out this form describing my current hair situation, then Sophie came over and introduced herself. She asked me what I wanted, and I told her to make me look good. I gave her virtual free-reign on my head, if you will. She checked over her plans with the superviser, and away we went.
An hour and a half later I looked like I had just had my hair cut at the normal $10 price I pay for Harold or Jim to snip away, only they had put something called DiFi (a funky way of spelling defy, because hair salons HAVE to be funky...) in my hair to make it look trendy. In actual fact when I asked people what they thought of my new locks, a common concensus was that I, in fact, looked like the famous Belgian comic book character Tintin.
Cheers Sophie.
Now onto the second part of this entry. Yesterday was my pal Tam's birthday. We started the day bright and early by having Adam-baked chocolate chip pancakes, which went off really well. We quickly readied and got our acts together to run down to the tattoo parlour so Tam could get inked up, and they did a very nice job. I'm hoping to post some photos of the event on my photos page, linked to the right, in the near future. Next we were off to Coyote's, a mexican-themed restaurant, for lunch. I was hoping to have the potato skins, but when they came they had bacon on them, even though on the menu they didn't say anything about being coated with pig. Oh well, live and learn. Next Tam went off to have her hair cut, and an hour and a half later Philip and I picked her and her sexy new look up from the salon.
Dinner was spent at a lovely place called Winnebago's, filled with gourmet pizza, a birthday tequila shot, and jokes flying from all corners. I have to say, I was on FIRE! I even organized for half the restaurant to sing Tam happy birthday, which was much appreciated. After dinner, and being totally stuffed, we all headed off to have a couple rounds of late night bowling. Bowling is an interesting activity for me. One round is fun, two rounds verge on extreme boredom. I think most people felt the same way as I did. The main thing, though, is that everyone had fun, and my pants fell down (I hope you all enjoyed the bum wiggling!).
After a long day, we all headed our seperate ways, and ten seconds after I lay my head on my pillow I was asleep. A sure-fire sign of a great day. Happy birthday Tam, the next one is going to be even better...
I got there bright and early, right on time at 10.00am. That's in the morning, by the way (shown by using the "am" after the numbers, in case you couldn't figure it out). I was greeted with a hello and asked if I wanted a drink. I chose orange juice, and thought to myself "Wow, I get refreshments AND a free haircut??!!" I was asked to fill out this form describing my current hair situation, then Sophie came over and introduced herself. She asked me what I wanted, and I told her to make me look good. I gave her virtual free-reign on my head, if you will. She checked over her plans with the superviser, and away we went.
An hour and a half later I looked like I had just had my hair cut at the normal $10 price I pay for Harold or Jim to snip away, only they had put something called DiFi (a funky way of spelling defy, because hair salons HAVE to be funky...) in my hair to make it look trendy. In actual fact when I asked people what they thought of my new locks, a common concensus was that I, in fact, looked like the famous Belgian comic book character Tintin.
Cheers Sophie.
Now onto the second part of this entry. Yesterday was my pal Tam's birthday. We started the day bright and early by having Adam-baked chocolate chip pancakes, which went off really well. We quickly readied and got our acts together to run down to the tattoo parlour so Tam could get inked up, and they did a very nice job. I'm hoping to post some photos of the event on my photos page, linked to the right, in the near future. Next we were off to Coyote's, a mexican-themed restaurant, for lunch. I was hoping to have the potato skins, but when they came they had bacon on them, even though on the menu they didn't say anything about being coated with pig. Oh well, live and learn. Next Tam went off to have her hair cut, and an hour and a half later Philip and I picked her and her sexy new look up from the salon.
Dinner was spent at a lovely place called Winnebago's, filled with gourmet pizza, a birthday tequila shot, and jokes flying from all corners. I have to say, I was on FIRE! I even organized for half the restaurant to sing Tam happy birthday, which was much appreciated. After dinner, and being totally stuffed, we all headed off to have a couple rounds of late night bowling. Bowling is an interesting activity for me. One round is fun, two rounds verge on extreme boredom. I think most people felt the same way as I did. The main thing, though, is that everyone had fun, and my pants fell down (I hope you all enjoyed the bum wiggling!).
After a long day, we all headed our seperate ways, and ten seconds after I lay my head on my pillow I was asleep. A sure-fire sign of a great day. Happy birthday Tam, the next one is going to be even better...
23 August 2005
T-minus 11.25 hours.
I'm getting a haircut. In just under twelve hours I will have some random Sophie running her fingers through my hair, trying her darndest to make me look respectable.
Here's the thing though... Sophie is a "trainee" hairdresser. Now, let me get one thing straight -- I don't normally go to "hairdressers". I go to the cheapest damn place to get some large, cigarette stained fingers to snip away at my locks with these horribly dull scissors. This time, however, I'm going to Sophie. It's a free haircut, at a proper salon, and my haircut might make or break Sophie's soon-to-be booming career. She's going to be judged on speed, accuracy, and probably her answer to "How would you bring peace to the world?" Apparently this whole ordeal is going to take upwards of one hour.
Don't get me wrong, my best ever haircut in the entire world has been by a trainee hairdresser. That, however, was in the fashion capital of the world: London, England. And that haircut was in one of the trendiest parts of London, that being Notting Hill. Now, I know it's not fair to compare Christchurch, New Zealand, with London, England, but...... COME ON! I just hope Sophie doesn't massacre me and make me even more unattractive to women.
I know I shouldn't complain. It's a free haircut, whereas normally if one was to go to this particular salon it might cost me upwards of $39.90 (by the guide, anyway). I just get nervous about people deciding what I'm going to look like for possibly the next three months, or until I run straight out and pay my normal $10 for Jerry, or Ralph, or whoever, to shave me bald...
Here's the thing though... Sophie is a "trainee" hairdresser. Now, let me get one thing straight -- I don't normally go to "hairdressers". I go to the cheapest damn place to get some large, cigarette stained fingers to snip away at my locks with these horribly dull scissors. This time, however, I'm going to Sophie. It's a free haircut, at a proper salon, and my haircut might make or break Sophie's soon-to-be booming career. She's going to be judged on speed, accuracy, and probably her answer to "How would you bring peace to the world?" Apparently this whole ordeal is going to take upwards of one hour.
Don't get me wrong, my best ever haircut in the entire world has been by a trainee hairdresser. That, however, was in the fashion capital of the world: London, England. And that haircut was in one of the trendiest parts of London, that being Notting Hill. Now, I know it's not fair to compare Christchurch, New Zealand, with London, England, but...... COME ON! I just hope Sophie doesn't massacre me and make me even more unattractive to women.
I know I shouldn't complain. It's a free haircut, whereas normally if one was to go to this particular salon it might cost me upwards of $39.90 (by the guide, anyway). I just get nervous about people deciding what I'm going to look like for possibly the next three months, or until I run straight out and pay my normal $10 for Jerry, or Ralph, or whoever, to shave me bald...
20 August 2005
Oh my god, what's that smell??!!
I'm just watching television while I'm typing this (I know, pretty good multitasking on my part, eh?), and I thought it was fitting that an interesting fact just came up because this was exactly what I was going to write about anyway.
"Most people fart between 10 - 15 times per day, with men and women farting about the same amount."
The other day I had pizza for dinner. Mel and I had just arrived home from delivering, or attempting to deliver, her mini to a garage so it could get fixed when Patsy declared we should order it from the place up the street called "Papa's Pizza", or something to that effect. It's a good place, and you can pile as many toppings on as you want, at no extra charge. I thought this was amazing, so I agreed we should try this place. We did our ordering and waited patiently whilst watching a pirate dvd (Shhh! Don't tell!) that Patsy had picked up on her recent trip to Bali. A knock on the door later told us that the pizza had arrived. Remarkably the delivery guy was actually super nice and friendly, which only made me respect Papa's Pizza even more.
So we break open the pizza and tear into it. I do have to say that it was very, very good. Toppings to the edge, crust was exactly as it should be (although they forgot to put on the feta cheese that I asked for)... It was great. UNTIL half an hour later my stomach decided that the pizza wasn't as good as I first thought and I started to fart up a storm. I didn't understand what was going on, it was pretty gross. I decide to sleep it off and go to bed, and see what happens in the morning.
The next day, nothing changed. I had to work in the morning at Tank Juice, and then the evening at The Club, but that 10 - 15 fart average was EASILY exceeded by a factor of four. I'm not even kidding. Not only that (you might want to skip this sentence if you already think this entry is disgusting), but I actually crapped about six times yesterday. I'm sorry if you didn't listen to my warning and have now lost all respect for me. I must have had a very mild case of food poisoning, but I don't know for sure. I'm okay this morning though...
I suppose there's some good in this: I have now brought the average back up in the fart category. By farting four times as much as most people over the past 36 hours, I make up for all those girls that say they never fart. Cheers ladies!!
"Most people fart between 10 - 15 times per day, with men and women farting about the same amount."
The other day I had pizza for dinner. Mel and I had just arrived home from delivering, or attempting to deliver, her mini to a garage so it could get fixed when Patsy declared we should order it from the place up the street called "Papa's Pizza", or something to that effect. It's a good place, and you can pile as many toppings on as you want, at no extra charge. I thought this was amazing, so I agreed we should try this place. We did our ordering and waited patiently whilst watching a pirate dvd (Shhh! Don't tell!) that Patsy had picked up on her recent trip to Bali. A knock on the door later told us that the pizza had arrived. Remarkably the delivery guy was actually super nice and friendly, which only made me respect Papa's Pizza even more.
So we break open the pizza and tear into it. I do have to say that it was very, very good. Toppings to the edge, crust was exactly as it should be (although they forgot to put on the feta cheese that I asked for)... It was great. UNTIL half an hour later my stomach decided that the pizza wasn't as good as I first thought and I started to fart up a storm. I didn't understand what was going on, it was pretty gross. I decide to sleep it off and go to bed, and see what happens in the morning.
The next day, nothing changed. I had to work in the morning at Tank Juice, and then the evening at The Club, but that 10 - 15 fart average was EASILY exceeded by a factor of four. I'm not even kidding. Not only that (you might want to skip this sentence if you already think this entry is disgusting), but I actually crapped about six times yesterday. I'm sorry if you didn't listen to my warning and have now lost all respect for me. I must have had a very mild case of food poisoning, but I don't know for sure. I'm okay this morning though...
I suppose there's some good in this: I have now brought the average back up in the fart category. By farting four times as much as most people over the past 36 hours, I make up for all those girls that say they never fart. Cheers ladies!!
14 August 2005
Happy 21st Dad!
Hello again everyone. Welcome back.
Last night I worked at "The Club", which was, for the most part, fairly enjoyable. I just wanted to tell you about a couple things that happened during the night. First off I started in the main club bar, serving the regulars and having a fairly chilled out time. It was good and steady, and was quite looking forward to the night. There was a Wallabies/All Blacks tri-nations match on late in the night, which I was eager to watch, when suddenly the Boss asked me to move downstairs to help out at the 21st birthday party that was being held in one of the large function rooms. As soon as she asked me to do this my heart sunk, because I had seen the other barmen running around all night.
I moved down and immediately hated the situation. Like I said, it was a 21st birthday party, which is a very big event here for the youth of New Zealand. What made this particular 21st a highly distressing event to work at was the fact that it was a completely open bar tab, so we had stupid guys coming up and ordering four bottles of Jim Beam and Cola, for example, at a time. It just got completely out of hand, and we went through about seven one litre bottles of vodka alone. I won't get into the exact numbers, but at the end of the night the tab had reached a staggering $5000 plus.
Now, I ask you out there... If your father was paying this amount of money for you to have a 21st birthday, would you go along with it, or would you ask him to fork over that money for a car, or to contribute it towards a loan on a house, or possibly to help pay off your school loans? I know one thing, I for sure wouldn't ask my dad to spend five grand on a party so all my pisshead friends could get off their heads.
Maybe I'm becoming cynical in my old age....
Last night I worked at "The Club", which was, for the most part, fairly enjoyable. I just wanted to tell you about a couple things that happened during the night. First off I started in the main club bar, serving the regulars and having a fairly chilled out time. It was good and steady, and was quite looking forward to the night. There was a Wallabies/All Blacks tri-nations match on late in the night, which I was eager to watch, when suddenly the Boss asked me to move downstairs to help out at the 21st birthday party that was being held in one of the large function rooms. As soon as she asked me to do this my heart sunk, because I had seen the other barmen running around all night.
I moved down and immediately hated the situation. Like I said, it was a 21st birthday party, which is a very big event here for the youth of New Zealand. What made this particular 21st a highly distressing event to work at was the fact that it was a completely open bar tab, so we had stupid guys coming up and ordering four bottles of Jim Beam and Cola, for example, at a time. It just got completely out of hand, and we went through about seven one litre bottles of vodka alone. I won't get into the exact numbers, but at the end of the night the tab had reached a staggering $5000 plus.
Now, I ask you out there... If your father was paying this amount of money for you to have a 21st birthday, would you go along with it, or would you ask him to fork over that money for a car, or to contribute it towards a loan on a house, or possibly to help pay off your school loans? I know one thing, I for sure wouldn't ask my dad to spend five grand on a party so all my pisshead friends could get off their heads.
Maybe I'm becoming cynical in my old age....
08 August 2005
Work, Play, or Both?
Well, what an eventful weekend and early week I've had. It's been most exciting and tiring. Let's have a quick run down, shall we?
Friday I worked a bit of a shift at the Workingmen's Club (read: a place where the older generation goes to spend their money on cheap drinks and fried food), then had to wake up early to start my shift at Tank Juice, which went rather well. It was fairly busy, and on one of my trips to the toilet I passed a bookshop that had a sale on. I bought "The Photo Book", which is a book of popular photographers and their seminal works that defined their style. It's very famous and I'm sure you've all heard of it. Check it out, sincerely. That night I was back at the Workingmen's Club until 1.15am, which gave me a grand total of nearly 15 working hours for the day. Not too shabby!
Sunday was pretty relaxed, which was lovely. Went to the pictures with my friend Sarah, which was also lovely. We saw "Land Of The Dead", the new zombie movie that came out. I would highly recommend NOT seeing this one. Sorry folks. Afterwards Sarah and I caught up on each others' lives, something we hadn't done in seemingly forever. Everybody say good luck to Sarah on her move up to Auckland and her new job at NPR. Good luck Sarah!!!
Glad to say that my movie watching experiences on Sunday weren't completely ruined by the undead, as Tam and I watched "Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind" on dvd. I hadn't seen this one before, and thoroughly enjoyed it... If you haven't seen it, and want to be wierded out, have a look. Sincerely.
Monday was pretty standard, watched a skateboarding dvd that I bought alongside "The Photo Book" (at 75% off, you can't really turn it down, can you?), played video games, and then went off to work a quiz night at the Club. It was quite fun, I must say. In between the five rounds they had a blind bottle auction. They were mostly bottles of wine and bubbly, but there were also a few bottles of spirits thrown in for good measure. I just have to say that I was a mere two dollars away from winning a one litre bottle of Kahlua. Gutted. Totally gutted I missed that one.
And there, in a rather large, rambling nutshell, was my weekend. How was yours?
Oh, and how do you like my profile photo? Pretty good, eh?
03 August 2005
Pants, Pants, Pants!
I did something a little bit crazy a couple days ago. I bought new underpants. Four sets of them, actually. I won't call them "pairs" of underpants, because to me a pair of underpants would be two seperate sets. So I bought four seperate sets, or two pairs.
They are quite nice, too. I bought them on sale, for a mere five dollars each. Normally they range in price (when not on sale) between 19.99 and 36.99! 36.99 you ask in disgust??!! Yes, I reply, 36.99! Now, if anyone out there can explain to me why they would spend that amount of money on a set of undies, and actually justify it in a reasonable way, then please go ahead. Don't get me wrong, they ARE nice undies, and I'm actually wearing them now. It's just that there's no way in holy hell I would consider paying that ridiculous amount of money on one set of underpants.
So I bought one of dark grey, one dark navy blue (almost black, the 36.99 pair), and two sets of sort of blue/green ones. I'm super stoked to have some new undies, especially since I bought them for a steal. Usually I get my undies as part of my Xmas stocking, but since I don't know when I'm going to be home next, I don't know when Santa will be delivering me some new ones.
Besides, five years with the same undies is getting a little bit ridiculous, isn't it?
They are quite nice, too. I bought them on sale, for a mere five dollars each. Normally they range in price (when not on sale) between 19.99 and 36.99! 36.99 you ask in disgust??!! Yes, I reply, 36.99! Now, if anyone out there can explain to me why they would spend that amount of money on a set of undies, and actually justify it in a reasonable way, then please go ahead. Don't get me wrong, they ARE nice undies, and I'm actually wearing them now. It's just that there's no way in holy hell I would consider paying that ridiculous amount of money on one set of underpants.
So I bought one of dark grey, one dark navy blue (almost black, the 36.99 pair), and two sets of sort of blue/green ones. I'm super stoked to have some new undies, especially since I bought them for a steal. Usually I get my undies as part of my Xmas stocking, but since I don't know when I'm going to be home next, I don't know when Santa will be delivering me some new ones.
Besides, five years with the same undies is getting a little bit ridiculous, isn't it?
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