I couldn't find one

Guys, Friday was hug a ginger day, but alas I could not find me a ginge to hug.  Sad for me, but even sadder for the ginge I feel (I give pretty good hugs you see...).  You've got to have a bit of sympathy for them; they are the butt of childhood jokes, suffer from year-round sunburn and what is especially sad, is the limitations their pale complexions and fiery hair place on their wardrobe colour options!

There are no gingas/rangas/carrot tops in my immediate family (we were worried about my niece for a little while there...) so it wasn't even like I could coax one of them into giving me a cuddle.  I had hopes that my friends little neighbour would make an appearance so I could at least hear about someone having hugged a ginge but it was not to be. 

Did anyone get a hug from a ginge on hug a ginga day?  Were they all hiding because of that man with his ranga chillen' on close-up? 

Usually they're swarming the place, obvious because they glow and their hair is bright orange, but I swear I could not find a single one... I was thinking however, that winter does make it harder to spot the fiery bevy given that everyone turns pale and the gingers can hide their hair under beanies, but I was making a concerted effort people (although to be fair, if I was truly committed to the cause I would have gone to the lengths of hat removal just to check... even at the risk of being arrested for assault or harassment)

Ah well, 363 days until i next get a chance!

x

Creeepy

Did you know that if you type the URL of this site with just one incorrect letter you get taken to a creepy Christian fundamentalist site?
 http://www.dontletmedictate.blogpot.com/

Yeah... pretty creepy

Strange breed

Engineers are special individuals.  In my five years at University their odd behaviour has never ceased to provide me with significant entertainment during the dull lectures that I (for some reason still unbeknownst to me) have chosen to take.  It has recently come to my attention, worryingly, that as time has gone on I have become immune to, one could argue even accepting of their unusual ways and that a dose of reality is only administered when I drag (literally) one of my non-engineering friends into the lions den, so to speak.

As my friends look about them as if fearful that one of these strange creatures will, at any given moment, attack them, I stroll unconcerned through the throngs of boys playing world of warcraft on their laptops.  When my friends clutch their course-books ever closer, on guard to strike any offending party who would dare to approach them, I chat away, seemingly oblivious to the disturbing realm that I have forced my friend to enter.  As they gall at the myriads of laptops and pokemon/pikachu/yugimon cards I pass by blissfully unaware of how strange these might seem to those lucky enough not to do engineering.

The fact that I know what a LAN party is, I have discovered- is not usual, and my ownership of 3 graphics calculators has my older brother seriously concerned.  For me, I think the realisation of just how 'normal' this alien world had become to me came when I was no longer outraged by the wide-spread fashion crime that is sneans (sports sneakers and jeans).  Sure, I was a little disturbed, however the anger that used to consume me to the point of actively evil-eye-ing and loudly remonstrating those who sported such a look was gone.  I had become immune to the crime as I had become so surrounded by it; it had in short become acceptable, non offensive and OK.

'Sneans' are the go-to look for any serious engineer.  The wearing of the sneaker enables speedy travel, not only between lectures, but also gives you the edge when hurrying to the last computer in the labs for your online gaming session.  While some might say they sport the snean for comfort, others would argue that it's aesthetics cannot be beaten- the dark denim providing a stark (yet exciting) clash against the white leather and metallic piping of the sneaker.  Hideous?  Yes. Indeed, and yet, for me, beautiful in one way.  A motif for the nerd, the world over- I'm smart, but speedy.  Unstylish, yet- oh so practical.  I've decided the 'snean' is OK. 

Even as I try and distance myself from the typical engineer, like a mother looking at her less-than-attractive child, I feel some love and admiration for these scurrying nervous wrecks who live vicariously through their computer screens and avatar personas.  Long live the nerd!

x

em...ploy...ment

I

NEED

A

JOB

Dear the powers that be,

Please find me a job.  It'd be really good if I could move out of home next year.  All my friends are getting jobs and moving out of home and stuff and jet-setting off around the globe.  All I have is Mr Darcy- my morbidly obese cat.  I hate writing CV's and cover letters, so if you could get someone to  write those for me, it would be tight.

Chur

x

Drip Drip Drip

Argh it's raining.

I wish I had some super cute gummies to rock with a sweet raincoat and an umbrella that was a) averse to flipping inside out in the wind b) collapsible into a size other than LARGE and c) enabled me to effectively navigate the water-laden streets without decapitating other members of the public.

I had this totally fantastic Miss Piggy rain-coat when I was four that my sister sent to me from overseas (oh the benefits of having siblings with a 19 year age gap!)- the hood was a miss piggy head, it even had little blonde curls attached SUPER cute.  I insisted on keeping it for years and years until mum made me put it into a storage box where it now lives happily in the recess under our stairs.

I wish I could get all English gentlewoman farmer on this sh*tty weather and rock the gummies a la the great British dames, though I'd guess they'd call them 'wellingtons'- Kate and Alexa, but alas the streets of central Auckland are not ready for them (and neither is my wallet! eek!!!).  I also like these gorgeous little rain-booties from Melissa by Vivienne Westwood, available at Jaimie Boutique in Ponsonby and Made down near Britomart (hopefully they won't become hideously overdone by the 15 y/o rich kids posse of AK- fingers crossed!!!).  However given that I suffer from the ailment known euphemistically as huskiness (a-haw haw), these will prob remain an unattainable dream!

On the topic of rain- oh Gene Kelly you make me sigh... just singing in the rain, just siiiiinging in the rain !!!!


OK, should be writing an essay... naughty moi!

x

It's a bear picnic

f you go out in the woods today

You're sure of a big surprise.

If you go out in the woods today

You'd better go in disguise.

For every bear that ever there was
Will gather there for certain, because

Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.

Emo Teddy

Scottish Teddy

Elton John Teddy

Asian Teddy

Teddy a la Karl

I just gotta interrupt you Teddy

Teddy and his bombs

x

When Dr Seuss strikes

http://www.examiner.com/x-8096-SF-Fashion-Events-Examiner~y2009m5d7-Suzy-Menkes-speaks-about-the-future-of-fashion

A horn on her head?

You're kidding they said.

She got out of bed,

With a horn on her head?!

Yes, a horn I declare-

Made of hair to be fair.

But it is a hairstyle that's awfully rare-

Though not one for which, I personally care

She works for the tribune,

She's not from the moon.

Thouch clearly she marches to a much different tune

Wearing that hairstyle not only in June

It's not a horn you birdbrain!

Suzy yells in disdain

People, like you, are clearly insane

This here's style, I'll dare to explain

It's known as a pompadour you nitwit

(Looks a bit like a horn- I'll admit)

Madame de Pompadour pioneered this sh*t

Though it wouldn't suit you, one little bit

Oh don't worry, I retorted

My hairstyles done- sorted.

You're look, to me, should really be thwarted

Not, encouraged, displayed and scarily supported

With that comment, she bid me adieu

Her horn, in anger, a little askew

Me thinking she was more than a tad cuckoo

Oh Suzy Menkes and your crazy hairdo

x

Gaga Ooh la la

http://followthefashion.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/lady-gaga.jpg

Ring. Ring.

Hi.  It's reality here.  Look, not too sure, kinda awkward to discuss but I was wondering, I dunno, I might be pre-supposing something here... I guess I'll just come right out and say it, so, um, do you know you're not actually Lady Gaga?

My video-phone is broken and I'm disappointed we can't have this discussion face-to-face, but my girl the Tooth Fairy put in a concerned word after she popped in to pick up your brother's last baby-tooth and caught sight of you sleeping in a giant white perspex coffin.  She said you're doing all kinds of strange things these days.  Covering your face with sparkly sunglasses.  Accusing innocent bystanders of being the Paparazzi.  Dancing like a robot.  Trying to poison people at McDonald's.  Telling people you may or may not be a hermaphrodite.  Forgetting to wear pants.

I'll be honest, I'm pretty concerned.  I mean I have been pretty busy lately, what, with all these confident chubsters rocking out in cut-off denim shorts, leggings replacing pants as a legitimate stand-alone wardrobe functionary, not to mention all those Ponzi schemes I've had to cut down to size.  However, I thought we'd really made some  decent inroads in your childhood.  You got that you were never going to look like Barbie, or create your own nation on the moon and that unfortunately, despite the existence of Ginger Spice, red-heads (or ranga's as they are colloquially identified) are destined to a life of mockery.  We discussed the fact that yes, Ricky Martin was gay, even though he took years to come out and had pretty much settled the debate over the chances of anyone ever finding Osama. What has happened?

I understand you're yearning for a role-model, attempting to differentiate yourself from the crowd, be cool and fit in with all those other hipsters.  Sadly, for you, Lady Gaga is not a realistic aspiration.  Given that you aren't dancing for 6 hours a day and a size zero - pants are pretty much obligatory.  For your sake, and the sake of others.  Also, that giant bow on your head- not cool.  You look like a badly wrapped (and unwanted) Christmas present slash an over sized and under-dressed Japanese anime fan.  Poisoning people, also- probably not such a good idea.  The legal implications (murder convictions etc) are probably not worth the pleasure you get from emulating Lady G.

 I just don't think Lady Gaga is for you.  Great for TV, not so conducive to real-life translation.

Anyway, just thought I'd let you know.  I'll be back sometime soon, probably around bikini shopping time (just in case those 3-way mirrors don't perform adequately enough in damaging any small shreds of confidence you may have).  Take care, until then...

Reality

x

Ignorance, trés cool? I think not

I'm not sure when it became acceptable, and then worse 'cool', to be stupid but it's really kind of annoying that I am forced to listen to the inane babble of these idiots who seem intent on making their voices heard.  Whoever it was that made this decision that being dumb/uneducated/ignorant is a model to aspire to, or heralded that 'vapid was the new black' certainly left me out of the memo that alerted everyone else to this fact.

Far be it from me to lay claim to being some kind of intellectual wunderkid, but there are some small facts that I feel are really not excusable to have not been mildly aware of given that you seemingly, are capable of reading.  Case in point: Justin Bieber.  The fact that a fifteen year old doesn't understand the meaning of 'German' when asked about the origin of his surname is horrific, "German... uhhh we don't use that word in Canada".  No- I guess you're too busy hanging with the other North American (as in the continent not the country, before I'm accused of not knowing that Canada is not part of America) idiot, Sarah Palin, chasing some "mooses" to rustle up for dinner to know what German is, or realise that Germany is in fact a country (a very large European country in fact, famous for it's role in both the World Wars... small, insignificant really, minute- details). 

It is not the famous who antagonise me the most though, this particular accolade is awarded to the high pitched, hair flicking tribe that is the female University student.  Yes, University student.  I know, you would think tertiary education would somehow correspond to some level of intellect.  Experience has taught me otherwise, and I have come to realise (nay, become convinced of the fact) that the University is not actually educating these girls, but merely gathering them en masse so they can present, discuss and exchange all of their vacuous ideas in a common forum, thus allowing the propagation of such stupidity into wider society.  The most distressing thing about this particular species of the stupid variety is that they are sadly misinformed that they are intelligent.  Armed with phases such as "Freudian philosophy", "market economics", "statistical correlation", "mitochondrial DNA", these girls then unreservedly integrate their new-found knowledge into everyday conversation and yet would struggle to explain the difference between right and left wing politics (and would instead ask what a "politics" bird looked like). 

The most entertaining of the brainless bevy, without a doubt falls to the "I'm a female and I'm dumb, will you sleep with me?" variety.  You know the type, the flirtatious cretins who pretend (dubiously so, I'll admit) to be ignorant for the sake of... well I don't know, I'm not familiar with this method personally, but I'm guessing for the sake of being cool or cute-sy (gag) or making their guy feel like a "real man" should.  One cannot help but cringe when they girlishly giggle and (unnecessarily loudly) ask "So how does rugby even work?".  You grew up in New Zealand you dim-witted waste of space.  You know and he knows and everyone around you knows that you know how rugby works (and guess what, just because of that, they all think you're even more stupid than before).

There's no need for everybody to go about reading Nineteenth Century French philosophy or educating themselves about the Theory of Relativity, but for goodness sakes, reading a newspaper occasionally would not hurt.  They've even made learning easy these days, you can watch stuff on the TV... amazing right?  If you get super desperate, I dunno- talk to your parents, they often have some quite interesting insights into the past.  When you don't know something, guess what? Google that sh*t, works a treat (and no-one has to know how ignorant you might be).  It is definitely not a crime not to know something, one is never going to know everything that there is to know in the world.  This is not an excuse to remain forever ignorant though.  It's not as if access to information is difficult in the technological age.  Most importantly, if you are going to absolutely insist on being ignorant (or find yourself in the position of seeming so), at least be quiet about it. Nobody likes a loud village idiot.

x

Hippie Dippie Doo rah

Image by Will Kane at: http://vi.sualize.us/view/dc4f5c0b4b6581b625e3d5429f3c9006/

I think I want to be a hippie.  Not in a smelly, sans bra, unshaven legs, kind of hippie way just in a free spirit, happy, carefree, chilled out, kind of hippie way...  Cruising about in a VW Type 2 hippie van, wearing a long floaty skirt and spreading the love (not in the way some sickos out there will be thinking). 

Images from: http://blog.hippiecouture.com/

 

I figure I already fill some of the criteria; I'm unemployed and a student (go me!), I'm all about fighting the man... man, and I suitably fulfil the long hair required to be a bonafide hippie.  Most importantly I can also make daisy chain head-bands, which surely distinguishes me as especially skilled in the art of hippie crafts(wo)manship (can't peeve the feminists off!).  On the downside, I'm not so much of an activist and my incertitude toward feminism is probably not ideal.  I also have issues with tolerance for others that may impede the "free love" message and given that I'm not a huge fan of listening to stupid people who offer no solutions- just mindless opinions with regard to the worlds troubles, there is the potential for problems to arise.  These, however, are only minor 'complications' to the dream and when I next see a hippie van cruising the streets of central Auckland I will be making an enquiry!

Of course being a hippie is yet another addition to a substantial list of current life goals, one of which is to successfully find employment.  Speaking of which (well not speaking, typing, but it doesn't sound right...), I should probably be formulating a CV right about now.

x

Inspiration board 3

The Memory Collector

Caryn Drexl Photography: http://www.caryndrexl.com/

Florida based photographer

Also love these two too

The memory collector bottles

The queen of nothing

Mummy Bear

Mother's Day, the day when we get to celebrate motherhood and all that our dear mummy's do for us.  It arguably descends into a commercially driven nightmare where you end up at your local Westfield in an attempt to be inspired by the garishly fuchsia and inevitably trashy "I wuv you mum" bears, coffee mugs and tea-towels. 

My mum has always had a reticent attitude towards mother's day gifts, which I will concede, is perhaps the result of some past gifts that turned out not to be exactly as useful as I thought they would be at the time of purchase.  I do try, but as the gifts from the last 2 years have remained unopened in the boxes, this year I have resorted to doing the unthinkable and not actually buying Mum anything.  Instead, I've decided a nice Mummy-daughter dinner is the best I can do (see below- culinary skills are still in development, hence why it's not just me whipping up a meal). 

Mum's are such cool people.  Extremely annoying at the very worst of times but lifesavers when it counts.  The things that my Mum has done for me border on the insane, and it is for this very reason that only a Mum could do them.  We've all had those times where Mum's come through at the very last hurdle and saved the day and equally we'll recall those days when Mum said no, spent an hour explaining the fault of your decision making processes as a teenager and felt the need to describe your latest failing (or even worse, success) to the entire extended family mid-Christmas lunch.  Mum's all have those slightly eccentric ways about them too- washing dishes before they go in the dishwasher, trying to set you up with the grimy family friends kids, cutting your hair in a bowlcut bob ages 7-10 so you wouldn't get nits (never had them, but not convinced by the logic of Mum!) and launching into an onslaught of questions when you go out and requesting a full blow by blow account the next day (while you're most likely struggling to hear her past the ever louder thudding of your head).

Despite these minor failings, overall, Mum usually turns out to be the lady who keeps you on the straight and narrow.  For all her slight crazy tendencies she does seem to unconditionally appreciate your existence, even after years of you bleeding her bank account dry and complaining about the way she dresses and keeping her up at night worried because you haven't txt her that you're going to be home late!  So treat your mum today, give her the best gift we kids can give her - the humble old cuddle and a kiss!

Love you Mumsie!!!

x

Susan Dey I think I love you

image from: fashion-stylist.net

image from: hissandpop.com

image from: hissandpop.com

Pictures speak a thousand words right?  Boom.  Three thousand.  Done.

Hey Noo Zuland Accunt

It is a well accepted fact that New Zealander's have a tendency to be a wee bit lazy with their vowels (on the odd occasion...) and it would be fair to assume that our diction is not renowned as the best in the English speaking world.  Recently, Deborah Coddington has brought the issue of correct enunciation to the attention of New Zealand via her last two columns in 'The herald on Sunday'.

Initially her diatribe targeted the state of journalism- a protestation at the poor level of reporting and the somewhat sensationalised language employed by the reporters.  However it's true target was quickly revealed as the sloppy-tongued and inevitably "uneducated" sounding speech otherwise known as the kiwi vernacular.  After enduring more than was necessary of Teryl-Leigh (or, as she might say it- Turrul-Leigh, mum of two from Souf Orckland) on New Zealand's Next Top Model (high quality programming, chur TVNZ) I will be the first to admit that I am not the biggest fan of the Noo Zuland Accunt.  

Teryl Leigh.  Pretty face, not so pretty on the talking front...

While I can ally with Deb's in her concern surrounding the inflection-laden, fast-paced, ill-enunciated speech that plagues our nation, the accusation that we are incapable of communicating in coherent sentences is rather (too use a distinctly toffy English word) far fetched.  She, herself, reaches the point of sensationalism (something one had previously been led to believe was her chief peeve against New Zealand journalism) stating that we are potentially at risk of having Judges who cannot understand what lawyers are arguing in their courtrooms as a result of our beyond terrible mastery of the English language.  In fact, one could go so far as to read that we may be on a collective downward spiral, prone to reverting to grunts and hand signals to communicate with one another at any given moment. 

Sure, 'bro', 'chur', 'cuz' might feature a little too frequently in everyday speech.  And six might sound like 'sucks', fridge as 'frudge', beached as 'buched", pillow as 'pullow', but I question the necessity of pointing this out to a nation that is home to the said manner of speaking in a national newspaper (I think New Zealander's may, perhaps, have noticed we talk like this (thus)).  As far as I'm concerned this is only to be an attempt to feed the ego's of those who are most pleased (there's the toff in me again) with their own prowess in the fields of language acquisition and usage (and are determined to show such skills off) or who are in some kind of timewarp believing we should all speak following the example set by broadcasters in the 1970's.  The nature of language and linguistics is that they are forever changing and adapting and that is precisely what they should do.  I have no doubt that in the day of Chaucer and Willy Shakespeare that the use of language was a point of concern and debate as time passed and I for one am glad that I'm not prancing about looking into "thine eyes" or asking people "Where for art thou".

The worst manifestations of our accent can assault my poor little ear-drums just as they do Deborah's (think- Lynn of Tawa-esque characters here) but I think ultimately that our accent makes us who we are.  I'd much rather sound the way I do then grate the unsuspecting ear drums of innocent parties with the high pitched, headache inducing, over-emphasised (heavy on the vowel, hold the consonant) diction that is the glorious Australian accent.  Ew yuck (Ow/Aye/Chur)!





x

Yo wifey

image from:chefleur.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/retro.jpg

It has recently come to my attention (apparently my parents have been concerned about it for some time) that I cannot cook to save myself, my cleaning skills are satisfactory at best and the closest I can say I have come to doing laundry is separating whites from colours and letting the fancy fabric sensing washing machine do it's thing.  In short, I fail in all the necessary qualities that would determine me to be a good wifey.

It's not that I am on the search for a husband (I've already decided a house in Mexico, full of cats is my inevitable destiny), however upon examining myself and my associates, I see that we are all truly failures in the art of domesticity.  Sure, we can make cupcakes (from a box) and if pushed could probably produce a non-illness-inducing meal for dinner (noodles), there's a few who can sew (pin cushions) and while we can vacuum I'm going to suggest that bleaching the walls or knowing how to clean an oven is beyond our limited capabilities.  Where has the domestic skill of old gone?  Was it lost in the bra burning days of extremist feminism?  Or have, like everything else in the world, such skills been lost to the 'evil' that is technology?

On the technology front, I have to admit that until recently, porridge only existed in sachets that were poured into bowls, topped up with the instructed amount of water and zapped in the microwave.  Rice continues to exist for me as a microwave only food and with the advent of the Watties 'steam fresh' bags I don't think I'll ever actually boil/steam a carrot in my life.  Sometimes, however I do wistfully reflect that it would be nice if I actually knew how to fulfil some of these typical 'wifey' roles.  Not because I feel that I have to, but I actually think it would be useful to know how to do things for myself.

Some neo-feminist crazy out there is going to condemn this as destabilising the rights that they (the now saggy-boobed and short haired ladies out there) fought for.  However, was the purpose of feminism not to allow women the right to choose their fate, rather than have it prescribed to them by society?  So theoretically there is a possibility that I actually might choose (yes, shocking I know) to want to know how to cook and clean and do the washing properly, and not at all because I have a male telling me that that is what needs to be done.  Just putting it out there- I like to eat food that doesn't make me gag, live in a house that doesn't induce an asthma attack due to the 2 inch layer of dust atop everything and well, clean clothes are going to make having friends (...and a job) a whole lot easier.

Mum has been on the war-path in an attempt to pass on some of her wifey skills, though I think poor Dad has given up all together and is resigned to the fact that they're living out old age potentially eating two minute noodles and microwave porridge based on what he's witnessed from my current capabilities.  I, on the other hand am optimistic!  Now that I have mastered porridge (in a saucepan even, my friends!), who knows what the future may hold?  The days of poisoning my family with undercooked chicken fajitas are coming to a close and my journey toward the lofty title of domestic goddess is just beginning... Watch this space!

x