Monday, 27 February 2006

Yet more souvenir shenanigans

I ask you, what could be tackier than this sticker?

This road sign apparently

These offerings come courtesy of the inspired randomness that is Her Banananess on the hunt for cheesy souvenirs.

You have been warned.

Plop

I saw the film Aeon Flux film yesterday. I was rather disappointed, but then that was to be expected. A lot of what Peter Chung was able to get away with in 4-minute shorts and 22-minute episodes didn’t translate well to the big screen.

Nothing really makes any sense in the movie, it all just happens. The clothes try to look futuristic but lack the alien edge of the animated shorts. Charlize Theron mastered Aeon’s elegant whisper but looks and moves anything but elegant. Martin Csokas was a dreadful choice for Trevor Goodchild and god only knows what the scriptwriters were thinking when they came up with a past-life romance between Aeon and Trevor to explain the lust-repulsion dynamic between them.

Oh it was just heart-breaking.

So I went and bought the complete animated collection from Realgroovy. All ten episodes Peter made for MTV, the shorts he made for MTV avant garde animation show Liquid Television and the creators’ commentaries to go with them.

I thought he did a great job with the Chronicles of Riddick animated prequel Dark Fury. It looked great and was a hell of a lot better than the live-action film that followed. His work on Reign/Alexander/Araekusanda (feel free to take your pick) looked great but was dreadfully mishandled by animation done on the cheap. I don’t think anyone quite understood Phantom 2050. To be honest I don’t think anyone quite realises that it was his work on building Nickleodeon goldmine Rugrats that drive him to push barriers and expectations of animated stories. Hence the almost-obscene outfits everyone wears in Aeon Flux, the contorted physical form, the perverted behaviour on parade and the heroine’s death at the end of every episode.

Sometimes cartoons really are better than the real thing.

Well if you get lonely you know where I live gorgeous

I’m in love with She Wants Revenge’s self-titled album. It’s Interpol-meets-The Cure-meets-Joy Division. The songs are all about the less glamorous side of love but they sound great and are quickly rocketing to the top of my iPod’s most played list.

I like She Wants Revenge so much I googled them and happened upon a great site-slash-blog for the music scene in Boston. On The Download has great coverage of indie rock acts and are more than happy to post links to mp3s that its loyal readers can download to get an idea of whether or not the act they’ve just read about is worthy of further investigation. Slowly reading my way through I found a section on DFA Records (home of LCD Soundsystem, The Rapture, The Juan McLean, etc.) with mp3s of the 2manydjs live set at the Sydney BDO. 1 hour, 17 minutes and 36 seconds of a glorious mix. It’s quite different to the mash-ups on the As Heard On Radio Soulwax Part 2 official release but it’s a great listen all the same. I’ve also snagged tasty remixes of Tiga’s Far From Home, NIN’s The Hand That Feeds, and Bloc Party’s 2 More Years as well as the LCD Soundsystem live set at the Sydney BDO.

I’ve since snagged from Realgroovy The Rapture’s Echoes and The Others’ self-titled efforts to add even more musical goodness to the iPod. The Whore does enjoy new tunes.

Speaking of new tunes it seems Her Floralness is in need of some new tunes for her road trips so His Whoreness has taken it upon himself to work up a little something something for the South Pacific Floral Wonder. The mix is glorious and the packaging is in development.

Bugger! Just walked in vomit cause I was texting you!

I saw this ad for Asics shoes in Australian rag Frankie late last year and am quite surprised its taken this long for it to finally creep across the Tasman. I’m a sucker for samurai so couldn’t help snapping a few pics.

A good thing too as my wanderings past this spot late yesterday arvo showed posters for the North Shore Pony Club EP, some unmemorable fringe festival show and a gaudy ad about how coverage of the Super 14 had moved to Prime. I already have the North Shore Pony Club EP and don’t give much of a toss about the others so all in all was rather gutted.

If anyone has an Onitsuka Tiger poster like the one here I would greatly appreciate one for my wall.

Thats wat u get wen u mix lindisfarne wif ngatawa

I never cease to be amazed at how alive Wellington’s CBD is on Sunday afternoons. Despite most shops having already closed and most of us still getting over the consequences of the inevitable late night before, here we are gaily strolling the city streets.

Sundays thankfully avoid the panic seen on Saturdays with their teeming streets full of cars struggling to cross the city and the usual throng of acne-ridden teenagers slowly ambling along the pavement five-across. Parents reluctantly follow their pre-teen kids into every store with anything remotely shiny or oozing social cachet. Dads reluctantly sacrificing more important things on TV for the sake of the family.

Yesterday the city was full of roving packs of first years: Goths, bathers, sleepers, green superheroes. Shameful one and all. Awkward too. More so for being so near to each other than because of their ridiculous outfits. Wander near a group of them and your ears will bleed from the shrill nervousness of nervous girls trying not to seem too interested in the gangly prattling of the gangly boys oozing sexual desperation from every acne-ridden pore. Oh the awkward nocturnal fumblings this city will see in coming weeks.

Irrespective of whether one is enjoying Rosemary’s Babies at Hummingbird, bad coffee at Starbucks or Soz at Astoria, Wellington provides a veritable smorgasbord for the people watcher in all of us.

Friday, 24 February 2006

Non-threatening like marmite

Well the weather outside is rather glorious. One certainly had ample opportunity to enjoy it and the resultant improvements to the… umm… scenery. I do enjoy my late lunches at Astoria. The newbie behind the counter notwithstanding the risotto balls were joyous, the apple juice very refreshing and the company superb.

Oh and I went shopping today, albeit for new tunes to feed the iPod. It’s quite demanding in a Little Shop of Horrors kinda way. Anywho, I managed to track down a copy of She Wants Revenge’s self-titled debut, Strip Music’s self-titled effort, Death in Vegas Live at Brixton and the North Shore Pony Club’s wee self-titled EP. I also snagged Tiga’s Sexor, Minuit’s The Guard Themselves and some remix 2-CD set I’m too ashamed to mention. Oh and I also bought Guy Delisle’s Pyongyang for $1.30 at Unity Books. He is a French Canadian cartoonist sent there by a French animation company and it was so surreal he captured the absurdity of life in North Korea in a rather hefty graphic novel (that is code for comic book for all the non-geeks out there).

A rather successful day by all accounts.

Bring on the weekend already!!!

Half an hour into my stripper odyssey and I’m kicking myself for not being Catholic


Oh and before I forget Shane at Sounds thought it would be funny if he gave me this when I popped into Sounds on the way home from work last night.

The Whore is not amused and pinstripes is not interested in having it. Are you? It is free to a more deserving appreciative audience.

She shoots me a look that says “lady boy”

I really don't know what to think anymore. Yesterday was pay day but I wasn't able to go shopping. No shopping on pay day. I'm surprised the sky didn't fall. Adding insult to injury Her Floralness manages a mammoth three pairs of dead sexy shoes of the calf-accentuating persuasion. I no longer feel man enough for the moniker consumer whore.

And now the Canadians were knocked out of the quarterfinals of the mens ice hockey by Russia. God damn Pavel Bure and his vodka-chugging comrades!!!

I so need a drink right now.

Tuesday, 21 February 2006

Did u c She Wants Revenge on letterman last night?

I think Mister Chris has found his new favourite band.

I think they’re my new favourite band too.

I think Minuit have finally released their sophomore effort.

I think it should be fairly decent if their debut effort is anything to go by.

I think Her Floralness has a thing for bears.

I think that’s nice.

I think someone has walked off with my Hexstatic Masterview CD/DVD set.

I think I’d like it back sometime soon.

I think the Sesame Street number song is pretty cool.

I think the Electric Company was a better kids’ show than Sesame Street.

I think the Cossack Mix of Death in Vegas’ outstanding song Dirge is quite elegiac.

I think the Adult Mix of Death in Vegas’ cinematic song Hands Around My Throat is much better than the original.

I think that is sad.

I think the dude that directed Equilibrium is directing Milla Jovovich as yet another sci-fi super soldier that doesn’t wear very much.

I think the lovely Milla needs a new agent.

I think we all have limited time on this planet and there’s no way one should spend it wearing Supré.

I think Mr Brown should have bought that droolworthy jacket at Zambesi.

I think therefore I shop.

I shop therefore I am.

Oh! you're such a c*ck

Yesterday was a good day. Hotnut was back on the market, Mr Brown was quite the smitten kitten, lunch at Astoria was quite the eyeopener, the Nige was in fine form and the womenfolk were… well… lively.

Which was nice.

Today was a good day. The coke was plentiful, the m&m mug was bountiful, the eyecandy outside Astoria was beautiful, the catch-up with friends from out of town was joyful and the lunch at Astoria was… well… filling. In the immortal words of a recent addition to the landscape, my day was “joyous”.

Which was nice.

The Schoolmarm thinks I should write a cookbook.

Which was nice.

Oh I’m sorry! How rude of me.






And how was your day?

Monday, 20 February 2006

Let the ass kicking commence

Some smart cookie thought they’d package together a bunch of ‘indie hits’ to cash in on the vogue of acts like the Killers, the Rapture, Soulwax and The Bravery among others. By and large I quite like what 2-CD set Twisted has to offer. Tiga’s disco remix of Soulwax’s E Talking is pretty damn good as is Mylo’s refashioning of the Killers’ Somebody Told Me (although I don’t think the lovely EKG would approve).

Beth Orton’s latest effort Comfort of Strangers is yet to get a decent go on ye olde iPod, as is KT Tunstall’s debut effort Eye to the Telescope.

Adult’s 2005 effort Gimmie Trouble isn’t bad although I’m not sure the Spartan electronic sound as indie chic would be to everyone’s tastes. It does make for pretty good background music.

Promise of Love, the 2003 effort from the American Analog Set is more… well… radio-friendly with Hard to Find the standout track on the album. Quite the indie effort all the same though.

Call me a whore but I bought the Clubbers Guide to 2006, a 2-CD mix set from the Ministry of Sound by two guys I’ve never heard of, all for a not bad remix of Royksopp’s 49 Percent. I later found Tiga’s latest single You Gonna Want Me included so the purchase wasn’t all bad.

Zero 7’s When It Falls is a good listen but then Zero 7 are fairly reliable in that respect.

Diefenbach’s Set and Drift is proving a challenge. Chockfull of that indie sound (sparse guitars, odd vocals and weirder lyrics) I can’t quite say I’m warming to it, which is a shame given I quite like some of their earlier stuff.

For a band described as ideal for fans of Interpol I’m wondering what it is about the National that warrants such a description. Don’t get me wrong. I like their debut Alligator. I just don’t see what the two bands have in common other than their music on my iPod. Anyone out there able to enlighten me?

And that ladies and gentlemen is what the whore has been listening to of late.

All I ever wanted, all I ever needed is right here in my arms

I saw No.2 last night. You don’t need to know who I saw it with.

I really quite enjoyed it even if the bore a few seats to my left did not.

We’ve had our fair share of kiwi films that take the kiwi lifestyle onto the big screen and to audiences around the world but Once Were Warriors was a film I’d rather wasn’t made and Whale Rider was a great film but overplayed the whole rural Maori thing as that of the oh so patronising ‘noble savage’.

Thankfully No.2 was by and large a low-key kiwi film about low-key kiwis in what could easily pass for an every day kiwi family and family is what this film is all about. The dramas, the baggage, the history, the food, the occasion. Family has it all and what it all is is life.

In a nutshell, the Matriarch of a Fijian family in Auckland suburb Mt Roskill calls on her grandchildren to organise a big feast worthy of her naming her successor. The grandchildren grumble a fair bit about doing it but do it they do and, as was expected, they succeed.

No.2 is a good film but not a great film. The scenery isn’t stunning and the acting isn’t Oscar-worthy, but it works for the story its telling so don’t let that get in the way of you really enjoying the film.

I didn’t and am all the better for it.

That’s the cutest thng any 1s ever sed 2 me!

This weekend was by all accounts a rather fantastic one. Good times with good people have a way of bringing the best out of the day.

And yet I couldn’t shake the sense the black dog was out there stalking my every move. If I let my paranoia run away from me I’d be inclined to think it was waiting for a moment’s weakness as its opportunity to strike. But strike it didn’t. Well… at least not yet it hasn’t.

I don’t like that. Is it worse for something terrible to happen or to live in the knowledge something terrible could happen at any time. I can’t help but think that certainty in this kind of situation is less than comforting.

Which is a terrible quandary to find oneself in, especially after having enjoyed such a good time and slew of fond memories to look back on.

I know I don’t normally post about this kinda stuff but then there isn’t really a lot floating around in my head that could ever be considered more appropriate to post about. Its more a situation of respecting confidences I’ve entered into than anything else.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

Friday, 17 February 2006

Refer the pregnant teens to him, I need the distraction

Well the last couple days have been quite the cornucopia of ups and down with a daytrip to Hamilton thrown in for variety.

Highlights include:

  • NOT coming back from Hamilton with a dairy farm or a pregnant teenager
  • NOT making Hexstatic’s live show at Frank Kitts Park
  • NOT breaking my neck coming down Brooklyn’s treacherous steps
  • Enjoying interesting pizza courtesy of the imagination of Mr Brown
  • Crashing out Tuesday after work and not waking until the next morning
  • Refuelling the iPod with new tunes that aren’t half bad

On the horizon this weekend?

Sunday arvo out Wainui with te whanau. Should be quite the cultural experience.

Certainly beats running around the bays now doesn’t it.

Tuesday, 14 February 2006

This is a bitch of an unsatisfactory situation

Saw Brokeback Mountain last night with Damo. Quite enjoyed it in spite of the less than comfortable seats at the Penthouse. Ang Lee did a good job with the film and it reminded me a lot of his work with The Ice Storm back in the late 90s.

As someone that had enjoyed the short story, I was a little apprehensive about how BM would be treated in a feature film. Granted there were a few things that didn’t sit well with me in the translation to the big screen (it was difficult to work out how many years had passed between scenes) but they didn’t get in the way of my enjoying what was a very simple love story. That the two central characters are men should be taken as purely incidental.

We went to the Cornerstore in Brooklyn beforehand and it was ok. The parma and cashew salad with mango salsa was ok if a tad sweet. The pilsner on tap hit the right spot but then when does it not.

I was reminded this morning that it was Valentine’s Day not by Her Floralness choo choo choosing me but by this rather resplendent bouquet of trademark red roses coveted by Her Rakaianess.

You don’t need to know whom I’ve sent flowers to. That would be telling.

Monday, 13 February 2006

Um – I can not remember those being taken

Quite a bit happened this weekend and I can only hope yours proved as festive as mine.

The Winter Olympics coverage began on the Saturday and it was good. The coverage of events yesterday was even better. The 16-0 drubbing Canada visited upon the Italians in the women’s ice hockey was cringeworthy but more interesting than Finland’s 3-0 win over Germany in the same event. The Chinese pair in the short run figure skating were quite marvellous, notwithstanding a moment out of sync. Graceful, elegant and effortless. As for the women’s downhill mogul, there was an upset as the Canadian snatched gold from the clutches of the German and the look of disappointment on her face was worthy of a few drinks.

That notwithstanding, can anyone please explain to me why the Arctic Monkeys are receiving so much attention for what strikes me as decidedly ordinary songs. I bet you look good on the dancefloor? Don’t believe the hype indeed.

Other stuff happened too but I think I’ll be keeping those particulars to myself and those that may have received drunken txts over the weekend.

Oh and before I forget, if anyone knows where I might get Bulgarian feta, Soulwax’s CD Nite Versions or the Blue Bensimon bag that would complete my collection I would certainly appreciate the assist. Papa’s got some lucre to spend people.

Oh and kudos to whoever did the Isaac Hayes stencil on the exchange box at the barndance outside the MFC. Very nice work indeed. I’d include a pxt but fire engines were in the way when I was last passing by the intersection. Consider it an excuse to go for a wander in your lunch break.

Thursday, 9 February 2006

I don't know about you, but...

Last night's episode of Lost didn't help me understand the whole island thing anymore than before. If anything it simply raised more questions.

Wednesday, 8 February 2006

We’ve been replaced with another segment, rescheduled!

It seems the rain has scared away the eyecandy this late Wednesday afternoon. In the absence of the warm embrace of beautiful people lunch at Astoria was instead a less then its usually enjoyable affair.

Gutted.

That said there was a silver lining to the seemingly endless raincloud perched above Wellington. The rain seems to have sent the scarily lecherous scurrying and held at bay the less attractive inhabitants of Wellingtons inner city daily existence.

Awwwwww.

As for lunch, I had the grilled haloumi salad.

Fab-o.

Don’t forget you’re heterosexual too…

So… went to Lone Star last night.

Feel free to take a moment to let that little snippet really sink in.

Ready?

Then let us continue…

I can’t remember the last time I was confronted with such wanton displays of… well… I’ve never felt so straight as I did last night. Maybe it was the drinks chicks with the whole bending over the table in short shorts routine or the facial sandpaper of the male waiters or how the decor came across as if an almanac had thrown up our nation's history all over the walls and no one bothered to clean it up. Maybe it was the unkempt mullets, black jeans and white sneakers of those being served. Nah! It was Linda Ronstadt’s soulful rendition of Blue Bayou playing in the background that did it for me.

The sniggers from the four very gay guys at the table behind us only confirm, at least to me, that Lone Star is so painfully straight.

But I digress...

The food was extraordinary in portion if deficient in taste. Actually no. The buffalo chips had more than enough chicken stock powder I almost wondered if there was any left for KFC. The salad was so full of poppy seeds I may as well have been munching through a handful of sand. The obscene pile of ribs that sat atop those particular culinary delights suffered from anorexia and far too much time in the oven. Lone Star could certainly learn a few things from Hell Pizza there.

At least the beer was fairly decent but then you’d expect that from a place like Lone Star.

Tuesday, 7 February 2006

Canada owes me a gold medal

I’m sorry but the Winter Olympics begin in Torino, Italy this Friday and I am very excited. The Winter Olympics is perhaps the singular moment where I forsake my kiwi pride for that of the maple leaf of my naturalised home. New Zealand has always sucked at the Winter Olympics and Torino will be no exception. That said Team Canada will no doubt come away with a fair swag of medals.

One medal Team Canada owes me and every other red-blooded Canadian is another gold medal in the mens ice hockey. I remember watching the final four years ago when Salt Lake City played host to the Winter Olympics. I was in a bar at the time. The game was pure poetry. The win was sheer ecstasy. The moment of our celebration too shameful to leave captured on film for very long.

I wish TVNZ would hurry up and come out with the screening times for the different events. If push comes to shove I may have to take time off to catch the ice hockey, curling and whatever downhill skiing I can manage.

For all people dismiss curling at least its more accessible to the beer-addled punter than the travesty that is cricket. Two teams of three slide round stones at a bullseye and the closest stone wins the match. That’s about as complicated as it needs to be, but that would ignore the strategic intricacies of the broom dudes (I’m not sure what their official terms are) and elegant turning of the stone.

Curling really is an almost hypnotic sport and I’d rank it up there with snooker in the misunderstood stakes. I can’t stand watching snooker myself but I can at least understand why plenty of poms are enthralled by TV coverage of the snooker matches.

Downhill skiing is just fun for when they stuff up or to see them react badly when an outsider knocks them out of the medal stakes by the barest of milliseconds. Classic.

I miss the cold.

"Just between you me and the gateposts" or An Afterthought on the Subject of Consequences

The previous post got me thinking about consequences and yet in that intuitive way the brain works I was also reminded of a moment not so long ago when my mother asked what the address for this blog was so she could find out what I was up to.

I’m not enough of a geek to trace the IP addresses of those that visit this blog to identify who read what when. I am however enough of a rational person to ponder the consequences of what I post on this blog.

Consequences.

There is a reason that this blog uses noms de plume instead of real names. It is the same reason that sees the happenings of my love life, sexual history, social life workplace and family left happily unmentioned except in the most obscure of throwaway comments.

At the end of the day, I can only continue to post material on this blog so long as doing so doesn’t end up costing me in the real world.

That you keep coming back for more suggests I must be doing something right. I just hope you can understand that there are some things I just won’t talk about. Or at least it should be understandable if you… no… that’s just being bitchy.

Until next time, remember that every day is a good day to shop.

Which of the deadly seven sins are you most likely to commit and why?

Well it seems the Danes have got themselves into quite the nasty bit of trouble over the publishing of 12 less than intelligently-conceived cartoons. Less than intelligently conceived because no amount of bleating about free speech excuses the consequences we have since been forced to suffer on the news every night.

That the Dominion Post would insist on publishing material most other publishers outside Denmark had very wisely refused to print strikes me as immensely naïve. Freedom of the press and the public right to know shouldn’t be taken as anything more than glib excuses when one can already see the harm that’s already been done elsewhere.

The internet exists to feed people whatever information they want no matter how obscure, and past experience should have taught us that the constraints imposed by legal office would not stop people from finding the cartoons themselves on websites no doubt hosted somewhere in Eastern Europe.

As such Dominion Post editor Tim Pankhurst’s call that printing the cartoons the fulfilment of the newsmedia obligation to inform the public is flimsy at best and venal at worst.

I am at a loss to understand what benefit this entire mess has had for anyone. Dumbfounded would perhaps be a more appropriate description.

To those who draw analogies between the comparatively relaxed response of Christians to the Condom on the Madonna affair let alone the screening of Popetown, I say shame on you and your ignorance. Just because Christians let people get away with that kind of thing doesn’t mean Muslims should. That Islam has forbids the worship of icons, idols and images of their religious figures should have been a clue that maybe parodying the prophet Mohammed in a cartoon wouldn’t get such a good reaction from the Muslim community.

Which in turn raises an interesting question: why is the Muslim response so selective? We see in the newspaper and on TV scenes of rioting brown faces and burning flags, but we don’t see similar scenes happening on our own streets. Nor are we likely to but I’d prefer to put that down to a reasonable consideration of the consequences than anything else.

Histrionics aside the moral of this post is quite simple: Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.

Here endeth the sermon because I need a drink.

Sunday, 5 February 2006

C’mon its h*m*er*tica

The heavens could have just opened up and pissed all over the rugby sevens for all I cared. I mean honestly, how dare a popular event in this city’s calendar ruin my Friday lunchtime?

Saving my satiety for a mid-afternoon visit to Astoria of the late lunch persuasion, I had grown quite expectant of the culinary goodness that awaited me on the sun-drenched fringe of sunworshippers at Midland Park. My early day was wracked with important life questions. “Should I order the ploughman’s lunch or the grilled haloumi salad?” Oh the tyranny of choice!

Thankfully the passage of time was not so slow as to engender momentary insanity at the workplace and I was soon striding purposefully through Featherston Valley towards Astoria.

Along the way I couldn’t help but notice that where once our streets are normally resplendent in so very tasty eyecandy of every persuasion, our streets were instead molested by the terminally unattractive looking even less attractive in a myriad of $2 shop creations.

No sooner should I arrive to a Midland Park barren of sunworshippers worthy of even the barest of one’s attention, but it seemed that I had been deemed worthy of the lecherous attentions of another.

Ordering my spinach and mozzarella risotto balls (four slightly gooey balls of such savoury delight Astoria is worth a special visit for them alone), I basked in the reflected glow of the sun’s warmth in the cool splendour of an immediately outside table. Composing myself with a visible smile on my face I soon found my generally sunny disposition mirrored in that of a less than attractive gentlemen no doubt old enough to be my father.

Hoping it was mere coincidence, my mistaking his attentions intended for another or that he was smiling because he was blind and that’s what blind people do, I noticed his gaze follow me more than once. Exiting stage left with as much discretion as someone of my bearing can, his gaze continued to follow me.

Not nice.

And after such a delightful lunch too!

This wouldn’t have been a problem if the eyecandy of the city were allowed to roam free among our city streets instead of being held captive by the allure of beer, sunshine and an oddly shaped ball. I should have been too busy checking out the tasty eyecandy on parade to notice the lech checking me out.

Friday, 3 February 2006

They sleep by day and make love by night

Keep free the night of Thursday the 16th people!

Ninja Tune stable favourite Hexstatic are playing a free audiovisual show at Frank Kitts Park and they’ve won so many awards for their live shows that you would be a nana not to be there.

It runs from 9:00-11:00pm so shouldn’t be considered as too taxing on those of you with fragile constitutions that require being tucked into bed by 10:00.

Wellington outfit Loop are involved too but Hexstatic are reason enough to come along.

It takes blood and guts to be this cool but I'm still just a cliche

Long have I worshipped at the altar of the Coca-Cola Corporation. Every week day sees me accepting my daily offering of black goodness in bottles ranging in size from 1.5 to 2.25 litres. It all depends on the deal Starmart is offering that week.

Long have I suffered calls to cut back on my consumption. It is with great shame that I admit to moments of weakness where I have gone without my daily offering of coke.

Excuse me for a moment I get a tad emotional when it comes to coke.

Long have I endured the seemingly endless experimentation with what is an obviously winning recipe. Cherry Coke. Vanilla Coke. Diet *gags* Coke. Caffeine-free Diet Coke. Diet Coke with Lemon. Diet Coke with Lime. Citra-flavoured Coke.

Well we can now add Coke Zero to the already bumper roster of beverage experiments.

Already a begrudging fan of Sprite Zero for its more acceptable taste than Diet Sprite and less sickly sweet formula of Sprite proper, I had high expectations for Coke Zero.

That said, I’m afraid Diet Coke is disgusting and undrinkable, at least by this whore.

So it was on that understanding I thought Coke Zero would prove as satisfying as Coke proper but without the often palate-numbing sweetness.

Alas, my hopes and expectations for this new drink proved ultimately and cruelly disheartening. I’m not afraid to admit the eyes got a little misty after the first sip. I’m sorry but that’s all I could manage. I'd post a pxt ofthe bottle so you know what to avoid in the coke section of every good store petrol station and dairy, but that would be a waste of 50 cents.

I blame my disappointment on Eve. If we were still in the Garden of Eden, I really don’t think we’d have to suffer mediocrity of the magnitude of Coke Zero. If only she was smart enough to realise that snakes don’t talk. I mean honestly, would you accept an apple from a talking snake? No. You’d be thinking it didn’t look right. You should also be wondering why you’d eat an apple when drinking beer is so much better.

Isn’t it, JJ?

Thursday, 2 February 2006

Hi! Welcome to Big Burger, can I take your order?

It’s the first week of the month but that doesn’t really mean a lot. We’re halfway into the first Kirks sale of the year and well that doesn’t really mean a lot either.

No more the matronly mothers from Hawke’s Bay by the vanload.

No more the swinging of large green bags through the city streets.

No more the excited hunting of prized sale items.

Instead we have clear streets around the Kirks building, aisles through which we can stroll unmolested and staff able to promptly ring up what few items there were that captured our less than impressed attentions.

For my sins I came away with socks, meat and a breakfast table for when I’m in bed and want… well… breakfast. I doubt that came to anywhere near $100 and that is after trawling through two buildings and three floors. Somehow I doubt I shall be returning for another look before the sale ends this Sunday.

Which is sad because the Kirks sale used to be quite the event in Wellington, but then I’ve already covered this ground before.

Suffice to say my sale experience was on the whole rather mundane.

How very disappointing.

At least it’s a lovely day outside.