Friday, 30 June 2006

Shame has a new name

I bought a ten-trip bus ticket today.

I've never felt quite so ashamed of myself as I do this day.

Is it time for The Whore to hand in his consumer card?

God I miss coke.

Thursday, 29 June 2006

It's payday today and already I'm poor

It seems nothing sucks the life out of... well... life quite like the need to pay bills.

How depressing.

Wednesday, 28 June 2006

Michael Jordan plays ball. Charles Manson kills people. I talk.

Thank You For Smoking is for lobbyists, policy wonks and 'advocates' what Wall Street was for stock brokers in the 80s. This is the film about the tobacco industry The Insider wishes it could have been.

See the trailer.


Buy tickets.

28 films, four half-days off work, no more than three films in any one day and two filmless days toward the end

Well that was Plan A.

I've since downgraded my expectations for the film festival to a less physically strenuous schedule.

Plan B consists of 16 'definites' (most of which are during daylight hours due to conflicts with the evening sessions) and 12 'maybes' (I'll work out closer to the screening day whether I can be bothered), a cumulative three days off work, no more than three films in any one day and with up to nine filmless days through the festival.

I don't think I've ever been so restrained. Must be the new me.

I don't think I like the new me.

I know I bitched about this last year but I miss the deadpan Scandinavian comedies, the theatre-rocking J-horror, docos that don't preach, and the films so completely random you can't help but laugh yourself senseless. That notwithstanding there are a few gems on my to-see list.

The 'definites' are...
Brick: film noir hard-boiled detective story meets South LA high school
Tristram Shandy: post-modern comedy about the post-modern book written pre-modernity
Shortbus: Hedwig creator celebrates sexual deviance
The Valet: French farce
A Scanner Darkly: Waking Life meets Minority Report
A Bittersweet Life: no-one makes revenge films anywhere near as good as the Koreans
The Sasquatch Dumpling Gang: Napoleon Dynamite meets junior high
The Method: Das Experiment meets office politics
Sympathy for Lady Vengeance: Old Boy creator is back with another Korean revenge flick
Wah-Wah: Richard E. Grant shares his fucked up childhood with the world
C.R.A.Z.Y.: oots and aboots aplenty as a boy comes of age
Thank You For Smoking: THE ONE FILM YOU MUST SEE
Factotum: Norwegian deadpan director imagines Bukowskiesque America
Bubble: Blue Velvet / Twin Peaks minus the underlying deviance
Hard Candy: Red Riding Hood fights back
Whole New Thing: oots and aboots aplenty as a boy seduces his teacher

The 'maybes' are...
Fearless: Jet Li jumping around and kicking stuff
Close To Home: time filler for...
Last Train To Freo: Perth psych thriller
Jonestown: I'm a sucker for docos on South American cults gone horribly wrong
Mind Game: Only the Japanese would make a film where the guy drives off a bridge into the jaws of a whale. Surreal doesn't begin to describe this film
Jindabyne: time filler for...
The Aura: Nine Queens creator follows-up with another heist film
L'Enfer: time filler for...
Princess: animated anti-porn revenge flick
Pulse: J-horror with American remake almost out
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada: border western - very Cormac McCarthy

Tuesday, 27 June 2006

Will it work this time?

It seems it will. About bloody time too! I haven't been able to post pics in days!!!

PS: this is my dead sexy Marvel Menswear scarf. The one made from the same material as the women's coat and hat in the window of World just a few doors down Victoria Street from Marvel Menswear. I walked past there tonight and the gay guy in World gave me the oddest look when he saw the scarf around my neck.

Thursday, 22 June 2006

Meat is murder... tasty, tasty murder

Well at least thats what the t-shirt says.

I had steak for lunch today and it was glorious. Thick, juicy, bloody and oh so tender. Just what one needs on a near-Antarctic early afternoon in the inner-city and well worth the earlier aborted attempt for a table at Astoria. Its 1:30pm and the place isn't just packed, it's almost overflowing with people who should be elsewhere. Not a regular amongst the lot of them. Who the hell did they think they were? Its not their cafe / restaurant / bistro / whatever the hell it is! It belongs to us regulars!!! I had to come back after 2:00pm like a... a... like a person off the street! *sobs* The cheek of it!!! It still leaves me seething like a savage beast. It's a good thing the protein hit calmed me down. I know its obscene to have something like steak for lunch but what do I care. Stuff eating something healthy like a sandwich or sushi when I'm starving, cold, angry at having to wait for a table and craving something almost guilty and almost sinful.

Which is interesting because I didn't think it was the season for comfort food. Mind you the coldsnaps we've been suffering in recent weeks seem almost determined to prove me wrong. I don't like being proven wrong. Deflates the ego. Not a pretty sight. Its a lot like really saggy skin and I'm sure we'd all agree that I'm ugly enough as it is thanks.

Although the wanton condescension towards those around me and general making of mischief see my ego inflate to positively suffocating proportions, there are some days where all I need is a quick shopping spree. Well a browse at least. The hunt for an item has usually proved more exciting than the actual possession. Trophies are nice enough I guess but the vast array of untouched CDs, DVDs and books in my library are testament to the thrill of the hunt. One thing I have picked up on in my travels is a decided lack of promotion of New Zealand-made products from those sourced offshore. I'm not a particularly patriotic person and the consumer whore within can't help but find the hunt for exotic items to be more of a challenge than items of more native origin. I jsut thought it was interesting that with all the millions of dollars spent trying to convince people to come to New Zealand, we didn't seem to be doing much to sell New Zealand to them and well us.

I remember back in the day there were ugly nomads with these even uglier tags all about how they were made in New Zealand. I'm certainly not advocating a return to the age of poor design and god awful footwear. Nor am I endorsing yet another preaching-to-the-choir exercise where a government minister can claim credit for a business doing well in spite of government policies.

I just think that the number of lamb cutlets alone that I buy in the space of a year make me a national hero for supporting the domestic economy and rolemodel for millions. The trend of late to partake of more bovine fare would surely be more than enough for the beatification process to begin. As much as subsidies and other forms of domestic support are dirty words in this country, I'd like to think there should be something in it for us to support local businesses. Something more than the oft-mentioned yet rarely-genuine swelling of the chest with national pride.

Wednesday, 21 June 2006

Tis the season to cover ass

I wish Wellington would make its mind up about the weather. I'm sick of shivering purposefully from the near-Antarctic ambience of usually windswept Featherston Valley into the sweltering agony of painfully sunlit sections of the city elsewhere. If its gonna be cold can it at least be cold everywhere? Consistency is what I'm looking for here people, but then I'm getting completely off the topic of this particular post.

Suffering such decidedly less than tropical weather has left most of my civic cellmates (Featherston Valley is nothing if not a concrete jungle and nothing says concrete jungle quite like 1950s noir prisons) embracing the wisdom that is the cashmere great coat. Cashmere is right for so many reasons but then you should already know that. Word to the wise: cashmere scarves from Swanndri = ideal for Wellington, especially as we desperately need accessories of the not-black variety. And so we bedeck ourselves in the garb of winter to hold back the disappointment of winter's discontent.

Oddly enough, bedecked as I normally am in neck-fattening scarf and black 3/4 length great coat of the slimming variety, I often find myself escaping to the warmth and comfort of Astoria. Jay doesn't think my neck looks fat in this scarf but then he could be lying just to be nice. I know! It's not like I seem to eat anywhere else but hey, stick with what works.

Well, the clientele at Astoria has of recent weeks taken on a decided working lunch feel to the many tables now filled with office people (I shouldn't judge too harshly what with being one myself) poring over papers and ensconced in hushed conversations punctuated by random bursts of agitated prattle. I wouldn't begrudge them so if they didn't force from my line of sight the normally languid people of the attractively elegant persuasion. And to do so without ordering anything from the counter beyond a simple coffee too. Oh the humanity indeed! I have on a number of occasions suffered the indignity of sitting next to these huddled masses as one indiscriminately absolves himself of any responsibility for what has transpired at their workplace. Yesterday saw a hapless reviewer double-teamed by equally-inept and oily individuals. I lost count of the number of times he sighed in hopeless resignation, but that was only because my order had arrived. I ordered the coq au vin blanc. So tasty. You should try it. Not mine though. Order your own.

The almost viral spread of these discussions throughout my beloved Astoria left me wondering what exactly was going on. And then it hit me. Mid-year performance reviews. Tragic I know but a necessary evil it seems we all must suffer. Much like the cold.

I wasn't really going anywhere with this so feel free to wander off in disgust.

Monday, 19 June 2006

Human nature

My weekend was less than festive and I can only blame that on human nature. I know the human condition is far too complex for such a glib statement so lets narrow that down to the innate human desire for what we don't have.

Case in point: not one, not two, but three boys in my flock found themselves without their significant other for whatever reason. I stopped caring about why this has happened about halfway through the second one explaining the subtle intricacies of why they were an item but weren't. Why exactly he felt so strongly about someone with whom he wasn't in a committed relationship I could not possibly fathom. I wasn't about to ask either lest he claw at the more than ample flesh from my generally disinterested visage.

On the upside, Her Zoboness scored a hug and kiss from her dream crush. Our hairy babies never seemed so unlikely as they did when I received her triumphal 4am txt. Pinstripes made it to Butt Ugly with his significant other and came away with a decidedly verbose review of the show and Mister Chris.

Oh and although she's turned her back on her folk pop beginnings, Nelly Furtado's Maneater remains a very catchy song. Like a bird she ain't but like many things this weekend that isn't such a bad thing.

Thursday, 15 June 2006

A bikini-clad blonde of the Hamiltron persuasion and a field full of big strong men

Is there something you'd like to tell us about your weekend my dear SPFW?

Front page of the DomPost too.

Wednesday, 14 June 2006

Mister Chris needs YOU!!!

'Need' is perhaps a tad strong. And this post only applies to those in our nation's capital too.

Anywho... buy tickets and go to the shows!


Because you have nothing better to do on a weeknight. Let's be honest. Winter TV is always crap and staying in to watch DVDs makes you nothing if not a nana. Don't make me slap you with your nana slippers.

So yes, Mister Chris is involved with two Young & Hungry plays this year – doing sound for Generator and starring in Butt Ugly. I'm not sure how he's involved with the terrorist show, but hey no biggie.

The shows open this Friday and run for two weeks and Mister Chris recommends that you book as tickets sell out very fast especially in the last week. Booking and other details below.

Bats Theatre
June 16 – July 1 (no performances on Sundays and Mondays)
Tickets: $16/12 or $38/24 for all three shows (bargain!)

6:30pm – How to Live in a World Full of Terrorists
Three friends find themselves under house arrest . Will they get out? And who is the enemy - is it the soldiers outside or is it them?

8:00pm – Generator
Five years ago today, Pauly and his friends celebrated his 16th. Lottie disappeared that night and was never seen again, and tonight, the same group of five friends come together, for the first time since that fate filled party, to celebrate Pauly's 21st.

9:30pm – Butt Ugly
If you ever were a geek or knew a geek at school then this is a play for you. Butt Ugly is a celebration of the underdog. What happens when all the odd-ball freaks band together and set out for revenge?

Book at Bats: 04 802 4175 or

Zenith of popular culture?

Well, that's what That's How It Happened thinks about guitar-strumming Imperial stormtroopers, Rebel Alliance back-up singers, Chewie on drums, Obiwan beyond a keyboard and Darth up front at the mic.

The song is a bit over-exposed these days and with that dreadful Sandi Thom knocking these guys off the top spot of the pops is testament to the song's dash having been done.

While we're on the subject, what is the deal with Sandi Thom's rubbish song? The song is so very boring and her voice is REALLY annoying. KT Tunstall she definitely ain't.

Tuesday, 13 June 2006

Cos I agree with your lifestyle

This marks the second night in a row I've had Burger Fuel.

Well, if I was being more honest I'd admit to having been there eight times in the last two weeks. Yes, my name is Jacob / Jake / Jakeo / Astoria / Waka / Haro / Brown Sugar / Gorgeous / Cheeky / Darling (pick whichever nickname happens to take your fancy) and I'm addicted to bastard burgers and spud fries. Can't get enough of them. Well I can as there is only so much burger a guy can enjoy before it ceases to be enjoyable. And yet there remains an air of inevitability to my brief sojourns to the windswept corner of Taranaki Street.

No I haven't turned my back on Astoria. No, this man has more than enough love in his butch manly heart for the two eating establishments. what can I say, the Jake has got a lotta love to give and love he does his almost ritual devotion to Steve and the girls at Astoria. It has reached a point where the parents of childhood acquaintances remark to my own parents how they always see me in Astoria. That would be scary if not for the emergence of many a reunion with elements of my past upon walking into the darkened interior. The steak is pretty damn good and definitely worth braving near-Antarctic Featherston Valley to get there. I"m tired of getting dirty looks from the bored staff at Kirks from cutting through the luggage section all the time.

On the upside it has been over two weeks since I last enjoyed coke. One would almost think I'd be saving money from not going out and buying big bottles of coke every day but no. I am instead spending more on larger bottles of clear death. That's a little strong. Howsabout bottles of beverage banality? They cost 50c more than I would otherwise pay for a bottle of glorious coke. I can't quite bring myself to refill them at the water cooler. The shame of enjoying more obviously recycled water with metallic overtones notwithstanding, I'd rather avoid the indignity of always being blamed for not refilling the water cooler after being seen slowly draining it to refill those gargantuan empty bottles. I refill the damn thing enough as it is in spite of never drawing a drop from its regularly-maintained receptacle.

Well that and attending to the Burger Fuel fixation is eating into the bank balance. Not to the extent where I have to go without in other areas of my life. The $250 Karen Walker merino scarf at the Swanndri Concept Store on Hunter Street will have to wait until payday, much like the $450 Swanndri tote bag (seriously cool bag, even if it is a fancy tote bag) and $100 gunmetal grey and forest green check wool scarf. With the weather as inclement as it has been this week I think I can confidently say that one can never have too many scarves.

Which reminds me, does anyone know where one could get warm gloves of the merino persuasion? Kirks don't seem to have anything that veers far enough from the near-black leather driving glove, and I'm sorry hun but homey don't do leather gloves.

Oh and children, go to your nearest CD store and purchase your very own copy of Ladytron's Witching Hour. Standout track Destroy Everything You Touch is too infectious to miss. It makes me want to dance. Yes it is that good. So buy it. Now.

Monday, 12 June 2006

This just in from Timaru

I'd move to Australia too if I had to suffer weather like this. Just looking at it makes me want to wear my toque.

Which reminds me, has anyone seen my toque? The one that goes with the scarf that makes my neck look fat.

On the upside, Auckland has no power after the lines were blown down. If only that would happen to Wellington. Maybe then I'd be able to enjoy the cold instead of the ambient exaggeration that is every heater in the office running on full bore (I work with too many women). Kind of makes the fans in my office more an exercise in vanity than climate control.

Friday, 2 June 2006

Part of the weekend never dies

Soulwax also said you were such a catholic girl trapped in a guilty body, but I'm not here to blog about dooleys.

No. that would be sad. Catholic sad, which isn't as sad as being... well... presbyterian. At the end of the day, nothing could be more sad than a presbyterian.

But I digress.

This weekend marks the celebration of the birth of our nation's monarch. I only give a shit because this means I get to enjoy a long weekend before finding myself basking in the glory that is a shortened working week.

Can I get an "amen"?

So let us enjoy this doube blessing for all its worth. Leave no decadent stone unturned and don't bother coming back to civil society unless the extent of your debauchery would leave your mother weeping like she's never wept before.

Why? Well this weekend marks our last public holiday until the onset of October. Winter's monotonous misery will strike us unabated with no public holidays to shelter us from the mundanity of less than pleasant weather. When you succumb to the near-demented nostalgia of warmer times at least give yourself something worth remembering.

So, go forth my flock and be shameless this holiday weekend.

Can I have my money back please?

I saw X-Men: The Last Stand last night. Not impressed. Not impressed at all.

I'm sorry but it was bad, and perhaps worse than that it was a disappointment. All of it. Everyone was either acting badly, told to speak shit lines, walking through pointless plotlines or being killed off for no apparent reason than to justify the "last stand" byline.

I wanted to groan in derision throuighout the film but didn't think the film was worth the effort. Yes it really was that bad.

Thursday, 1 June 2006

How much does it suck to be me?

Thanks to a kidney infection and the battery of tests I suffered soon after means that medical practitioners in our nation's capital have now been able to diagnose me as diabetic. The world seems so gray and wan without coke in my life.

What does this mean? No sugar. No complex carbs. Basically I'm left with mung beans and carrot juice.

So, how much does it suck to be me right now? Quite a bit, is the answer I'm looking for people.