Monday, 31 July 2006

If only life imitated art

Today marked my triumphal return to full-time employment and if I was an honest person I would take this opportunity to profess I was more than a little disappointed.

Where are the korean revengeseekers attacking teachers with hatchets? Where are the south american psychologists messing with heads of ambitious office workers? Where are the american D&D-loving geeks hitting each other with foam swords? Where are the french canadian ironed toast lovers? Where is my american lobbyist extolling the virtues of smoking as a lifesyle choice?

I mean honestly!

I was at Astoria and I didn't have a hopeless wino walk up to me and say something poetic before sloping off to down another shot of whisky. No. I was served by pleasant staff. Whats up with that?

As if adding insult to injury, I've had more than one boy find themselves with the day off and desirous of the whore's attentions. Its never been so awkward getting stuff from the printer.

Today has been disturbing to the point of my buying a mauve tie. Can you understand the lengths I must go to wash away the disappointment my life isn't like it is in the movies I've lived through the last week. I don't care if the tie looks gay because it at least looks hot.

Thursday, 27 July 2006

I have a new obssession to add to the list

They're called Birdy Nam Nam. They're French. French DJs. Four French DJs. I am so loving this song. Shame about the group's name.

Hat-tip to aurgasm for posting the vid.

On the film festival front I've seen another three movies and by and large they've been pretty damn good.

Sasquatch Dumpling Gang stands out as an especially guilty treat although I think Mister Chris laughed louder than I did to his own personal shame and humiliation.

While I think of it Mister Jangles, its probably not a film you want Levi to watch. Far too much fodder for the badly spelt occasionally acurate, yet always irrefutable quote book.

Wednesday, 26 July 2006

I don't know about you but I'm overdosing on moving pictures

With the film festival haunting my afternoons and early evenings and DVDs occupying my attentions into the wee hours of the morning, you'll have to forgive my less than full attention to you my modest yet loyal readers.

I've knocked off five films so far with eleven to go (maybe more - not sure), two of which fill my afternoon today. I'm inclined to cop-out a la Mister Chris and provide reviews at the end. Its all too hard to come up with witty bon mots that don't seem contrived or give the impression I take film far too seriously.

Oh and before I forget I went back to POPUP earlier this week. Hope you don't mind but I got this deliciously random colouring book from New York design partnership Kozyndan.
That's A3 colouring-in fun right there my friends.

I'm almost afraid to start colouring it in but it seems a shame not to. Much like never taking a toy out of its box. Now thats some wrong shit right there.

Oh and these guys.
Chef and the Nomadic Troubadours are part of Pete Fowler's Monsterisms.

Just call me Cecil because here's a cloesup...

So cute.

I must buy more!

On the how-green-are-my-eyes-right-now front, my envy has been agitated by the recent acquisition by friends of mine of a living room swallowing inflatable rabbit. Talk about too cool for school.

I'm sorry did someone say it was pay day tomorrow?

Monday, 24 July 2006

I went to the Kirks sale today

It put me off my lunch.

Yes it was that bad. Well not so much bad as uninteresting. Thankfully the over-procurement of sale items was avoided this year with less aisle space taken up with sales tables full of uninteresting items. The lack of quantity has not however seen a commensurate increase in the quality of items on sale.

Not that I'm in a position to buy much of anything of course. But still. I can't help but say farewell to something that was once a firm fixture on this city's calendar.

My how the mighty have fallen indeed.

Normal programming will resume...

when I'm less committed to... 'other'... 'things'

Sorry to disappoint. No really. I mean that from the heart. Just keeping it real.

Wednesday, 19 July 2006

How... How do they know?

How depressing. Maybe buying a cashmink scarf will ease my woes.

Hang on...

Where's my wallet?

Tuesday, 18 July 2006

Oops, I did it again

Everyone, this is Tequila. Tequila, this is everyone.

I know, I know. Old habits die hard and it seems so too does my penchant for generally wanton and shameless spending.

This afternoon saw me sitting in an overwarm room listening to things that didnt generally interest me. Oddly enough the experience left me feeling less than joyous. Crazy I know, but hey... What are you gonna do?

If you happen to be me, you would find yourself desperately scrambling for the chance to relive the dizzy giddiness of yesterday's consumer sojourn.

And what do you know... I did!

Where should I end up but with yet another visit to POPUP. The dude behind the counter chuckled as I lumbered into the store in full officeworker garb (it sucks how no matter how sartorially elegant one dresses, one still looks like one works in a tiny office). He laughed again when I reached for Tequila off the shelf. I did score a free issue of Giant Robot and another entry in a competition to win a cool framed print.

I think he makes a cute couple with El Panda although apparently they hate each other. Maybe Tequila ate Panda's bamboo or Panda took a sip of Tequila's parents from his special bottle. Yes folks, apparently Tequila was raised in the desert by a caring cacti family. Then they died and he fermented their remains in an empty tequila bottle. He drinks his loving and caring family from that bottle.

I'm just ranting at this stage.

But who cares!

They make me happy.


Maybe we should extend that whole not getting sick thing for another pay cycle. Oh and it would be great if you guys could start saving your newspapers and cardboard. Homey is gonna need some insulation for cardboard mansion when he finds himself very soon forced to live under an SH1 overpass. Oddly enough, SH2 overpasses are the preserve of the more experienced hobo.

Monday, 17 July 2006

I've been a bad, bad boy

These last weeks have been really difficult for me.

The health scare and its ever-present consequences on my diet have left my once decadent lifestyle irreparably wholesome. As if to add insult to injury, medical expenses have left my finances decidedly hoboesque. Well minus the hobo gloves, hobo BO and little hobo dog. Such indignity had reached a point where I was resigned to never again nourishing the soul through the joyous medium of frivolous and wholly unnecessary spending. Shopping was swiftly going the way of the moa and coke.

And then today I go and do something rather... unwise.

On Ghuznee Street, between Crazy Lounge and Glover Park, there was a Japanese store that used to sell kimonos and other suitably ethnic items before they closed up shop. Succeeding in that spot is now a glorious pop art gallery of sorts called POPUP.

Wanting to keep abreast of the city's shopping opportunities I thought I'd just wander by and see what they were selling. Maintaining an interest as it were.

And then I saw him...

Do you like?

It was love at first sight and I had to have him. And have him I did. I know that sounds gay but I don't care.

El Panda is a gorgeous moulded-plastic figurine of sorts with a swivelling head, movable left forearm and communist party hat. He cost far more than someone in my delicate finances ought to spend but I haven't felt this giddy in a while. The thrill of the shop feeeeeeeels sooooooo gooooooooooooooood.

He has a partner called Tequila who is a big butch Mexican wrestler figurine that has a swivelling head and removable poncho. He looks very cool. So very butch and manly. I must have him. God it feels good to collect something again.

I'm not sure anyone at the office quite knows what to make of him, let alone me for buying him. Interestingly enough, most of them weren't around until well after I went through my Evangelion phase or my Lego phase (both around about the same time). I've always been a sucker for cool toys and when the dude behind the counter told me not to leave El Panda in the box I had to scoff and he seemed to smile knowingly. Toys are meant to be played with and enjoyed.

On the down side, I'd better not get sick anytime soon because I won't be able to afford a doctor's visit.

On the brighter side... Ladies and gentlemen, The Whore is back!

Friday, 14 July 2006

Was it masculine? Yes, and proudly so

is David Sedaris the new Truman Capote? Who cares! He writes some damn funny shit.

Radio with pictures

This is some of the funniest shit I've come across on the net. Even better than the Daily show because it's satire better than the Americans have been able to manage in the past.

Enjoy with my compliments this your first taste of...


Although I think this one is better myself...

Oh. Craftwerk. I get it now!

Last night a few of us went to Craftwerk at the Paramount. By 'us' I mean JJ, his always delightful offsider and my black resplendent self.

It was crazy, chaotic and there were far too many people in such a small space. There was the Doctor Who theme tune on the PA system, gay army men lining up to welcome us into the Paramount, $2 shop toy jet airplanes hung from anything that could hold... well... anything and silver space invaders on the walls. They had a sega megadrive space where you could play crap games from the 90s like X-Men. Tragic I know but quite geeky.

The stands were suitably alternative with only one person there of the discernibly professional persuasion. He was flogging off wood cutouts of ghetto blasters and cassette tapes as brooches and necklaces for far too much money. They looked like those bad etchings you did at woodwork with a soldering iron. The other stands were very haphazardly put together and displayed. Many looked like they'd shaken out their top drawer onto a tablesheet witha few handwritten pricetags scattered about. I had to laugh when one stand told me they didn't have change for my purchase. Thankfully I had the exact amount.

I bought some cool wee fabric covered badges (very tactile), a couple cartoony badges (offensive yet crudely cute), a bogan brooch for a closet bogan friend of mine (he's tres tres art-house in every way except his taste in music), and a waterprint that doesn't make much sense but looks cool all the same (especially in halflight).

My diabetic self and her gluten-intolerant self gauded JJ into buying a toxic cupcake and telling us how it was. He mentioned one of them had "poo" written on it in icing. Charming. I dont' remember if the muffin he bought was any good. As I said it was chaotic. Fingers crossed it isn't what has him laid low today.

Anywho, a good time was had even if hot and sweaty and bumpy and grindy.

Can't wait for the next one!

Thursday, 13 July 2006

How ├╝berspecial do I feel right now?

Goodies were randomly dispersed around the officefolk this morning. Gift basket goodies. Imported goodies. Such savoury exoticness.

I've already gorged myself on honey sesame cashew nuts (entirely permissible after checking the nutrition information) and have a fancy salmon pate in the fridge sitting there lonely, neglected and unloved at least by my non-seafood consuming self. You wouldn't happen to want it would you?

One particular gem that caught my attention was this not insignificant parcel of imported brie.

I almost felt I was holding a counterfeit block of god-knows-what recently rescued from some Eastern Bloc 'supermarket' (I use that term very loosely) or resurrected from the ruins of some post-WWII excavation in the South of France.

Alas, such fascinations proved untrue as I spied the "PRODUCT OF GERMANY" warning on the bottom left of the box. Call me unenlightened on food-related matters, but I never thought the Germans got into the whole dairy thing. To me sausages, sauerkraut and beer just scream "Germany!". Not cheese. And a French cheese made in Germany too. How odd.

Oh but like every offer of steak knives, you'd best wait because there is more. Guess what was inside the box. No, go on. Not just cheese, but cheese in a tin. A tin! Cheese. In a tin. It doesn't get more gourmet than that.

I'm almost afraid to crack it open in case it releases evil spirits into the world., much like a newly-revealed Egyptian tomb. I mean tombs in general. I don't know if any have been opened up in recent times. I found Egypt to be a bit on the boring side to be honest.

Death and cheese all on a Thursday.

How ├╝berspecial do you feel right now?

Wednesday, 12 July 2006

Water never tasted so gooooooooood

I can remember the first time I tried Antipodes mineral water. Dinner at Citron with my now former workplace wife. It was a glorious, giddy near-orgasmic experience that was only heightened by the fantastic bottle of Antipodes we shared that stormy evening.

If ever there was anything I would happily leave coke for, Antipodes was it.

I've been looking out for it at supermarkets and specialist stores ever since but to no avail. Despite a fair bit of media attention it seemed Antipodes supplied the restaurant trade and only the restaurant trade.

Thankfully that seems to have changed in recent times with home deliveries now available by the caseload.

At least the abject poverty from my imminent departure for a cardboard box under a motorway overpass will see me comforted by a case of 12 1000ml bottles of glorious sparkling mineral water. I'll be the envy of the hobo set.

Well it's about bloody time too!!!

This just in from the Interpol website...

Hello everyone. Seeing that the website has lain furlough for a while, we felt that we owed you an update. And we’d imagine that in the absence of official emissions misinformation is rampant. So here it is:

Things are good. Gettin’ some rest... gettin' some sun. We did break up – four times - but that’s all behind us now. Carlos got a dog. His name is Gaius. Italian greyhound – looks like Carlos. Also, I think I’m moving to Jersey City; because that’s where the action is really at. Whoever the people on MySpace are, they’re not us.

In all seriousness, we’re hard at work on the writing of album three. We’ve been at it for six months - in case you heard we were on hiatus. We’re all very excited about it and think that you will be too. Having yet to record, we can only say that Release will come sometime next year.

As far as the website, check back for further developments and updates. And thanks for standing by. We have you all in our hearts and little pulsating musical minds. We can't offer much of a preview at present, but I can tell you we’ve got one gem in the works entitled "The Heinrich Maneuver." And another that was called "Pawn Shop." But that's called something else now.

Thank you for being with us. And we truly look forward to sharing with you our newest.


Yes the message is too soppy and saccharine for egos as robust and healthy as ours, but all in all I'm rather relieved more material is on the way. Various entries from Antics and Bright Lights remain on the most played playlist on ye olde ipod because they really are that good. Even if they do sound like Joy Division. Even if She Wants Revenge and so many other bands sound so very eerily familiar.

Speaking of Interpolesque explorations, Poni Hoax from France are rather good. Well Interpolesque with the monotonous voice but their song Budapest is really rather catchy in a Kills lite kinda way.

Canser De Sei Sexy are good for other reasons. Less-leaden and more poppy and funky. Let's Make Love And Listen To Death From Above is getting a lot of play time on the ipod.

No I haven't gone mad. I'm just spending a fair bit of time swimming among the mp3blogs searching out catchy tracks to enjoy in the privacy of one's ever-offwhitening earbuds.

Monday, 10 July 2006

I know, what I know

I'm watching the BBC and they're running one of those viewer-interactive interviews with Vladimir Putin. He obviously doesn't know a word of English as he's speaking Russian to every question she fires at him from BBC World viewers around the world. Right now we have Giuseppe Songtan from somewhere in South America asking what Putin plans to do about North Korea's missile tests. The response is laboriously tactful in not saying much of anything substantive, but the funny thing is the interviewer nodding along as if she has a clue what Putin is saying. I don't think a concurrent translation would happen anywhere near fast enough for her to nod knowingly and that she swings from one seemingly unrelated question to another is testament to that. I am curious as to who the other two people are in the studio with them. Putin flunkies checking the appropriateness of the questions put to their fearless leader? The blonde looks especially officious. The guy looks middle-aged which in Russia could mean anything from 30 to 80. What am I saying? No-one lives that long over there.

And with that tangential thought the channel changes to something infinitely less wholesome and educational. It looks like bugs are eating people in the mountains somewhere. That guy from crap TV show Caroline in the City with the floppy hair is sitting halfway out a helicopter but his floppy hair isn't moving. Cunning film-making there.

Porn on C4. Bad porn. Bad censored porn. Actually I don't think its even porn.

Speaking of porn, Benny Benassi of Satisfaction fame (power tools never seemed so sexy) is back with another sexy video for new song Who's Your Daddy? Apparently the video is an homage to 1970s skin flicks and the very scantily clad chicks grinding away suggestively on the video are testament to that. There's one chick on the vid that remainds me of my South Pacific Floral Wonder, well at least when she was blonde. Its the blonde with the shorter hair and gunmetal grey swimsuit in the censored version of the video. She features more heavily in decidedly less in the uncut version but I don't know Her Floralness anywhere near well enough to make comparisons there.

What else do I know? Well, Hotnut has developed a habit of being online very late at night. Something about a script he's been working on what with his dayjob eating into his filmwork. He works retail but then so many boys in my life these days do. Thats not an entirely bad thing. Is it?

Oh and I almost forgot. The Book Show screened for the first time yesterday afternoon on TV One and to be honest I'm quite disappointed. Emily Perkins may have been the poster child of New Zealand writing in 1996 but her interviewing leaves a fair bit to be desired. Tze Ming Mok was brought on for a face-to-face with Perkins only to find herself peppered with inane questions asking her about books she'd read. This may not seem entirely out of place on a show about books but when an interviewer asks questions completely unrelated to any response she's received suggests this was little more than exercise in time-filling. And with the guest editor of the latest Landfall no less! Jesus wept and then some. Finlay McDonald didn't fare much better. The former Editor of the Listener and husband to TV3's teleprompt fumbling Carol Hirschfield, interviewed some writer from the Hutt. I should probably use the term interview quite lightly there because most of the discussion between the two of them seemed to rest largely with Finlay's own opinions. I'm sorry did someone say Kim Hill? That said, the loooooooong interview did draw forth a few interesting gems.

The most interesting was the seeming disregard for sport in most histories written of our tinpot country's development into a nation state. One would think our historical sporting achievements would feature more heavily beyond the Springbok tour. After all, in 1905 a team of young men were sent overseas to seek their fortunes, travel the world, and suffer herculean ordeals before returning home as heroes. By ship no less! Homer's Odyssey it wasn't but it was still an important moment in New Zealand coming to realise its own identity as something other than Diet Britannia. What the author's distinction raised was the seeming arrogance of the academic towards sport, as if the boofhead culture behind sport made it any less serious or important to a country on whose mental health and national identity proved so very reliant on the fortunes of our sporting heroes. Not exactly earth-shattering but it came as close to an epiphany as one would ever likely manage on a Saturday afternoon.

Speaking of Saturday afternoon, River Cottage had a zucchini and leek souffle that looked divine. Made me want to make the twice-baked goats cheese souffle in this month's Cuisine magazine. Anyone know where I can get Bulgarian feta?

Friday, 7 July 2006

Fancy a pint?

I've never seen one I didn't like.

Dreadful, dreadful joke.

On a lighter note...

My office smells of toast
This may not seem so queer if I had a penchant for toast, let alone a toaster or bread in any one of the drawers of semi-hidden treasure treats. But I don't. On all counts.

What does The Whore have for lunch when he doesn't have time for Astoria and is too far from Burger Fuel?

We didn't have toys like this when I was a kid
Toyworld has a 20-50% off everything sale going on right now so I went for a look-see. Big mistake. I saw a Millennium Falcon that transforms into two smaller transformer robots. Too cool for school.

It sucks to be poor.

Welcome baa-aack
The Lovely Kelly of Wishbone fame has finally returned to our nation's capital after a few years in the cow-infested climes of the Waikato. Yay!

I wish the clouds and rain would come back

God damn!

I was working on a most excellent post, a startling narrative that would begin with how miserable the weather has been of late, to how Wellington's weather tortures its citizens in spite of our best efforts, before moving onto some of my favourite revenge films and concluding with how it took the Germans to come up with a word like schadenfreude. It was going to be oh so pretty, witty and wise. You would have loved it.

But alas the sky is now clear and summer blue with the sun *gags* polluting my office with its filthy sunlight. I hate it when it does that.

And you'll hate me for withholding a moment of true literary genius.

Yes I am a sour man, but you love it.

Tuesday, 4 July 2006

Where's the chux?

I'm sorry but my financially-forced nanaesque nights-in have led me to understand that something has polluted C4's generally underwhelming programming, something that I can only describe as musically offensive.

Mister Chris informs me that High School Musical is in fact a disturbingly popular TV show on the Disney channel.

Watching TV never felt so dirty.