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Month: February 2009

  • February 19, 2009

    For Christ’s sake! Immigration officials may have forced their way into a house to take pictures of a boy – A NEW ZEALAND CITIZEN BY BIRTH – to try and send him back to China with his overstayer parents. They may also have made his mother sign a forged note.

    If that’s all true, hope they are sacked and punished to the full extent of the law.

    * * *

    I’m not super thrilled that the govt is scrapping a bill that would stop letting agents charge fees, but there’s not much I can do about it. With the Nats in power though it’s not going to get any easier to live if you are a renter. As it is going through an agent is ridiculously painful. Some want to know how much you make a week, from where, your other outgoings, your car registration, some even ask for your BANK ACCOUNT NUMBER! They want to screen all flatmates (although if you find your flatmates AFTER moving it, they can’t really vet them then, can they?). It’s so intrusive and demeaning. Some private landlords are no better; they try to rip you off. Or straight up inform you “We are looking for a family. We only want a family”. Nobody wants to rent to anyone young, let alone under 20, or still studying. And for crying out loud, agents ALWAYS want to do showings during the day and expect you to be able to drop everything at a moment’s notice and show up at a house – NOT feasible if you work full time in the city and are somehow meant to get out to the suburbs, not to mention somehow get time off to go and view the place!
    End rant 🙂

  • February 16, 2009

    Hmmm….

    chocolatesApparently NZ women want flowers and chocolate just as much, if not more than, increased intimacy. WTF? (the guys surveyed overwhelmingly voted for more intimacy – go figure).

    Oh well, I don’t really like flowers. They’re pretty, but I don’t really appreciate them. They die. I’d rather have something lasting. Not jewellery either; I don’t wear any, just can’t be bothered anymore. Hence, I do not want an expensive engagement ring. I just KNOW I would lose it down the toilet/during an exuberant wave of the arm/over a bridge somewhere. I especially don’t want a diamond one. I’m thinking a coloured stone, actually, almost any colour would do.

    Diamonds are forever, my ass. Love is, or it should be – maybe that’s why our divorce rate is so high? And I can’t believe the average wedding pushes $30k. that’s half of a house deposit! Almost a year’s salary! It almost makes me ill to think of blowing that much on a single day (because I don’t think the figure includes the honeymoon! And that’s what I’d consider worth putting more towards). I’m so highly strung and have such a close relationship with Murphy, that I know it’s a bad idea to pin so much down on one day. There’s no way it could live up to expectations, despite the fact that I literally have none of my own. I’m proud to say I’ve never envisaged what my wedding would be like, but eloping sounds like a pretty good idea!

  • February 16, 2009

    Flipping heck!

    Goddamn. Some people are just so plain rude.

    I was just at the bank queuing for a teller. Ahead of me were a couple of guys and a girl clutching a big wad of cash.

    She asked the guy directly in front of her if he could calculate something on his Blackberry for her. He obliged. He fumbled a bit – either it’s a new phone, or he just doesn’t ever have to use the calculator – and was nice enough to ask her if SHE wanted to do it herself. She declined.
    He fumbled. And fumbled. And fumbled. After a bit of back and forth, she sighed loudly, rolled her eyes and practically threw her hands up in the air. He apologized profusely. She repeated her numbers with the air of someone struggling to potty train a child.

    That saga ended. The line inched forward. A new teller appeared and started tapping away at their computer. The bitch stepped forward and had a go at the guy at the front of the line (not Blackberry man, the one before him), something along the lines of “get up there already, this line is so long and there are people waiting behind you!” Poor guy scurried off.

    I wanted to punch her.

    You don’t just go up to the teller. You WAIT until they call you forward. The teller JUST got here. She would have still been logging on. Who knows how long that takes? What if her computer had frozen? You WAIT for a reason, and if he’d gone up and she still wasn’t ready for him, and someone else opened up, how stupid would that look? There is a reason for how they operate, and we abide by queue etiquette at banks and at the post office FOR A REASON. Would you demand a chef bring out your meal RIGHT NOW, because you’re RAVENOUS, ready or not? Didn’t think so.

    Then Blackberry guy offered to let her go ahead of him. Oh, she turned all sweetness and light then, let me tell you.

    “Oh, really? You’re such a gentleman!” And stole his spot at the front of the line.

    I swear. One day. I’m going to have a public brawl with some bitch like that who gets up my nerve on a bad day.

  • February 16, 2009

    Worth it?

    money-coins-enlargeWe often go to the Avondale markets on a Sunday morning and wander around looking at the crap (and occasional gem) people are hawking. Once we saw BF’s new phone for sale, for $100 less than we paid at Parallel Imported (which was at the time $50 cheaper than all the other stores we saw it in!) Sometimes it bugs me, because we don’t usually go for any particular reason or with anything in mind to look for. And because the roads around there are INSANE, we pay $3 to park in the parking lot.

    But I figure, $3 for half an hour of good healthy fun (doesn’t cost us anything more, except the odd $1 drink or $2 kebab, and we’re walking around the whole time) is pretty cheap – and it’s worth it. It makes BF happy and gives us something to do, close to home…you can’t even get a decent milkshake for $3 these days!

  • February 15, 2009

    Weekend wrap

    Had a lovely weekend…we got away, at least to the other side of Auckland! We stayed at a bed and breakfast/hotel place across from the rose gardens, ended up not going to the restaurant we’d booked, and ordering room service. Food was amazing. BF had a huge pork roast with salad and baked potato, and I had salmon with mashed potato and salad – divine. We both love mashed potatoes so there was a little bit of a fight there – I could eat mashed potatoes for eternity and be happy – and I usually never feel like I’ve had enough, but last night I did. (And at breakfast; there was cheesy mashed potatoes alongside the sausages and bacon….) I even took photos, the food was so beautiful!

    It was great getting away and being waited on, etc. Getting away from home, and all the dramas involved. There was also a bathtub, so we had our first bath in years…super relaxing! I’m so keen to do it more often. The only downside really was BF gave me a silver paua bangle. It must have been a little loose, because I realised in the evening it wasn’t on my wrist anymore.  I get the feeling it slipped off pretty early on. It’s weird though, because it’s quite solid and heavy you’d think I would have  heard it fall and hit the ground! But it wasn’t in the car. So odds are it’s somewhere along Ponsonby Road or in Victoria Park New World (where, incidentally, self-checkouts are the shiz…). I feel pretty lame. Who loses their present the day after it’s given to them? Make me feel better, please…

    p2140012Our dinner

  • February 15, 2009

    Boys and their cars

    Sigh. $180, for a wheel bearing and something else underneath the car needing tightening. BF also informed me that the left hand bearing needed replacing.

    “So why didn’t you get that done?”

    “I said we didn’t have the money,” says he.

    So in a couple of weeks or so we’ll be right back there, handing over another $200 or so to get this bloody car fixed. I don’t even want to IMAGINE how much we’ve spent on it. It is the biggest piece of crap ever. I sincerely hope that next car is a reliable, sensible, economical, boring as fuck car, the best we can afford. The amount poured into this has been ridiculous. Tyres. Clutch. Tons of oil. Other fiddly bits and pieces under the hood. Brakes. Plus repairs from last year’s accident. And it is not just his money, it’s mine. I am involved. The boy-car love affair will just have to wait, unless he wins lotto (which we don’t even play). A car gets you from A to B. Who cares what it looks like? As long as it moves, is safe and warrantable, and doesn’t need money thrown at it every three months.

  • February 14, 2009

    Ignorance – NOT bliss

    I really need to expand my general knowledge. On Iraq. Afghanistan. The middle east. South America. Zimbabwe. How can I ever be a journo? How can I write headlines when I don’t understand major world events? I dread loading up stories about wars / Middle East conflict / Congo suffering / Sri Lanka which require headlines, because I just don’t know what is really going on.

    There’s so much happening round the globe, it’s overwhelming. And tragic. Aids. Female genital mutilation. Women getting stoned to death for being raped, for chrissake. Hunger. And closer to home, how about simple, everyday cancer? Downs syndrome? Animal cruelty? The floods, the fires? This week on Queen St there’s a girl challenging people to a game of chess; she’s raising money to fly back home to her dying mother in Madagascar. (It’s pretty neat. A good chess game is great to watch – I’d even go as far as to call it sexy. Quickfire rapid moves, pieces captured every other move, backing someone into a corner. Yeah, I’m a geek).

    You know what else makes me sad – the people who pick up rubbish on the roads and the people who clean food courts. I hate when people clean around me while I eat. It makes me feel really bad. Yeah, it’s their job, but I don’t feel someone should be cleaning up after me. I feel bad enough getting waited on at a restaurant. I feel uncomfortable as they refill my water and clear my plate. I’ve got to get over it. Just trying not to think about it all right now, it makes me really sad. I can’t handle it. If I keep thinking about it, I’ll probably nut out.

  • February 13, 2009

    IBS

    I self diagnosed myself with mild IBS a while ago. I even kept a food diary for awhile. Of course, my symptoms seemed to clear up markedly during this month, but I worked out what triggered my digestive woes:

    Over eating
    Spicy foods
    Cheap, bad food
    Too many rich foods
    And of course, stress – totally unrelated. When I’m strung out, I don’t eat, my stomach does acrobatics, and tries to purge what little is in it. This can go on for days.

    Sadly, I love some foods too much to give up. The biggest problem for me is Indian. I love curries, with a vengeance. And a good Indian meal out at a restaurant poses absolutely NO problems. It’s the cheap takeaways or food courts that make my stomach rebel and send me to the toilet multiple times. It’s the readymade sauces we buy at the supermarket, butter chicken, or more recently, our beloved Nando’s coriander and lime stir fry sauce. It was hot. Even after being watered down with milk. Every mouthful burned, but burned nicely (think “Hurts so good”). I was too lazy to get anything to wash it down with. And it was delicious – I couldn’t get enough!

    Even the cramps a few hours later were worth it. I think.

    What’s the solution? I don’t know. I eat better now than I used to, or at least I try. I don’t stuff myself, even at all you can eat’s, and I’ve let go of my food-finishing guilt. I will now leave a few bites on my plate rather than force myself to choke them down. I’m also cutting down on the cheap nasties and the supermarket curry pastes/sauces.

    I guess it’s all about balance. And I’m willing to go through the pain once in a while to enjoy a spicy, tasty meal.

  • February 13, 2009

    I don’t get it

    I haven’t had the luxury of a summer off since high school. I doubt I’ll ever have another one, come to think of it, which is a bit sad, but c’est la vie. It got me thinking though. Why don’t more people work full summers? Do they just not get how large their student loans are gonna be and what a huge amount they’re saddled with? By the time they come out and start accruing interest – well. I make over 2k a month full time – one summer would easily pay for a year’s tuition (unless I was a med student. Still, all the more reason to work). Of course I have a relatively well paying job, so let’s go with minimum wage. Should be about $1500 take home a month. That’s $4500 in three months, and if you have exams early on you can have up to a four month summer. Again, that’s a hefty amount of money, and not something  to sniff at. It might not cover tuition for everyone, but would you rather owe $9000 or $4500? And if you don’t want to give up your ENTIRE holiday, then work half time, or for three quarters of the summer, you know, find an in between balance!

    I understand money really isn’t as important to most people my age. That’s cool. They’ll learn. But even stepping up and working a day or two a week could be put towards those monster loans – you have months of free time and if you’re sticking around close to home, why on earth not make some extra money to save or get started attacking your loans with?

    Engineering students also have to do a truckload of work exp to graduate – like 400 hours or so. My mum was asking me why my friends are bumming around, doing nothing and working at Countdown instead of doing time at an engineering firm? I didn’t have a suitable reply. Really. I still don’t.

  • February 13, 2009

    Hot stuff

    fan34 deg C in West Auckland last night!

    Although to be honest, I thought the night before was far more sweltering – it rained last night so I was actually pretty cold – woke up shivering and clutching the blanket to my chest.

    Of course BF spent the night silent sweating, poor thing. Our fan is pretty much always on. (I REALLY wish our room was properly insulated. It’s the Arctic in winter and Sahara like right now). I try to make sure it’s turned off when he  leaves the room and turn it off after he falls asleep, but I usually drift off before he does so it stays on until I jerk half awake halfway through the night and drowsily flick the wall switch off. This week though, he usually ends up waking up himself and turn it back on and I just don’t have the heart to argue with him, it’s so damn hot! Unfortunately, our power bill skyrocketed correspondingly. He denied it was the fan at first, but I pointed out nothing else in our usage had changed, and when you’ve got something running for 6plus hours a day all of a sudden, the bill is bound to shoot up.

    Poor thing. He always seems to run at about ten degrees hotter than everyone else, and about twenty more than me. I spotted a duvet in a catalogue the other day which is meant to sort of adjust to your body temperature, so it’s ideal for sleeping partners where one is colder than the other! Sort of like those beds where one side is firm and one soft. Wonder how well it works though….sounds pretty gimmicky to me! Especially for a few hundred dollars.

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