Thursday, 31 August 2006

Is it wrong to look into someone's apartment?

I mean it's not like it's my fault they don't bother to close their curtains / blinds / blankets held up with primary-coloured thumb tacks during daylight hours.

Which reminds me...

SPFW dearest, they've been showing the middle room in the hovel across the road so you'd best be quick about it. The Adorable Newbie and my modest self would be more than happy to help with removing the curtains from the window. Well maybe I'll do that. I don't see a step ladder in there from across the road here.

The Joy of Bookcases

by Antz.

They are great for shelving books and displaying dunny bunnies and egyptian toy camels.

A major plus is the addition of bookends. I have two laughing monk bookends of a dark wood that suits my bookcase wonderfully.

My case also has two dinky drawers that don't fit A4, but almost! Good for storing cards and letters.

Books need a place to rest, where they can look great and feel great about themselves too.

Books deserve it.

Tuesday, 29 August 2006

What? Does she have a penis?

I have yet to find myself close enough to her to cop a feel a la Crocodile Dundee, but thats another story entirely.

Astoria was almost empty when I had breakfast there this morning with Mr Brown and his boy. I'm not sure why and with breakfast companions before me it would have been rude to ignore them while I signalled for the floor manager's attentions. After all, manners are important. Heaven forbid they should become yet another anachronism relegated to the heap of irrelevance as has befallen the walkman and doormen outside department stores. Actually no, the walkman should probably sit on the pile of obsolescence. Howsabout this instead, wine waiters asking if you'd like to try the wine when it has been screwed not corked. Well, 'un' as the case may be. Yes. Much better.

My afternoon return to Astoria didn't seem to find it much busier with the usual assortment of unworthy individuals taking up precisou space at the tables outside. Unworthy in the sense I didn't know them. I hope you understand. The Lovely Michael seemed to understand well enough but then he is very obliging even when I don't make sense. I can't say my ability to think rationally today has been anything but impaired.

Not that it matters. In the immortal words of Dinah the christmas whore... "you're a pack of goddamned angels."

All we need now is a someone to ask Dinah how much she charges if they just want a spanking and we'd be living the disturbing if humorous life of a David Sedaris short story.

Monday, 28 August 2006

"I love the bear watching tv. Makes me want to shoot something."

Cat claw?

We saw Fearless last night. Although bearing the magic words "martial arts epic", feedback from friends whose opinions I generally value had me thinking twice about this one before finally handing over my $14.

I wouldn't say I deserve a complete refund but dear god it came close. As often befalls most Hollywood films, the trailer showed all the vaguely interesting bits from the film with em clockwatching through the sentimental scenes with his daughter, the hammy scenes where he finds his family slain and eye-rolling scenes in the countryside planting rice.

The fight scenes had their merits but you already know the hero will always best his opponent because action films never let the good guy get too worn out in a fight. When it didn't seem disingenuous it was uninteresting.

Maybe in a post Crouching Tiger / Matrix world, we've seen all that wire-work and slo-mo fight scenes have to offer.


Saturday, 26 August 2006

Let me tell you a story...

Once upon a time there was a blog that welcomed one and all to a world where one's adoring masses would be regaled with the shameless buying habits and occasional op-eds of the consummate consumer whore.

The posts were shameless and the blog was good.

Then one day things were no longer so good and the consumer whore found himself with little choice but to sacrifice his precious blog as an offering to curry favour with the Gods of Job Security.

But the allure and temptation to post items of interest burned too strong to resist and it was not long before the blog was reborn like a phoenix from the ashes.

Yes I do realise that was very Harry Potter.

Straight from the Whore's mouth became the mouthpiece of the actions and opinions of its author. And it was good.

Well it was until one day his modest yet loyal readership rebelled against one purchase too many. And so it came to pass that the blog that was would see the light of day once more.

From today, Consumer Whores R Us will become the land where the whore can discuss things he wants to buy, things he wanted and bought and things he wished he could buy. This will remain the repository of the whore's non-shopping interests and opinions.

Yes I do realise I just repeatedly referred to myself in the third person.

I hope you enjoy this resurrected venture with my most heartfelt compliments and yes you can be every bit the consumer whore I am.

Yours in shopping,

His Whoreness

Friday, 25 August 2006

Which reminds me...

Does anyone know what the deal is with those furry balls with full red lips that swarm over the coke bottle after it is filled by the squeegy thing?

This is just before it shoots along a frame only to have snowmen flung against it through a spinning fan.

I can pretty much understand everything else about the ad but that particular bit. I quite liked the helicopter grub things at the beginning.

Yes I do miss coke.

Speaking of high-waisted pants...

Is it me or have Scissor Sisters gone from channelling Elton John to channelling the Bee Gees with their latest single I Don't Feel Like Dancing?

Just off the top of my head I was thinking Bruce Springsteen as Secretary Of State

Robin Williams' new film sees him play the role of a John Stewart/Stephen Colbert variety comedy newscaster who runs for President as a joke only to find himself elected to the Oval Office.

Apparently its meant to be funny but it looks a tad too much like that dreadful Kevin Kline film where he plays a lookalike who replaces a dead President with good intentions and burgeoning sexual desire for the First Lady. It really was a bad film.


That's what the film was called. The Kevin Kline one. The Robin Williams' one is called Man Of The Year and it looks like the trailer shows all the funny bits in the film.

Oh and if someone could explain to me why it might be funny to make Bruce Springsteen the Secretary of State, that would be much appreciated. I might even make this a prize-giving moment. I'm feeling in a generous mood.

Puberty sucks

There is an indie film coming out soon called The Motel. It seems very indie. Me And You And Everyone We Know indie. And its Asian too. Well, it has Chinese people in it. Oh and its uplifting too, although you wouldn't know it from looking at this pic...

Could this be Mister Chris' next favourite film?

I hate to play stereotypes but where there's smoke there's fire. Cliche I know and yes it would work better with a person of the Hindu persuasion, but you work with what you've got.

ps: is it asian or Asian? I've never been too sure on that point and the Pedant has never been much help on that particular predicament of grammatical proportions.

Don't think of me as big brother, think of me as a good shepherd keeping an eye on his flock

Coldcut are playing Wellington next week and this should fill me with all sorts of warm feelings. Normally. We are however faced with a fantastic live act playing to a seated crowd with the tour promoter for some reason thinking the State Opera House was a good place to host them. Actually crowd might be a bit strong. If you had to sit in a seat during a great live session for the founders of Ninja Tunes?

I didn't think so.

I don't know. I'm still a bit gutted I missed out on Hexstatic when they were here earlier this year. I'm just not sure I want to sit through a Coldcut concert.

In the meantime, Pnau are playing Sandwiches tomorrow night with Minuit and other people playing support. You should go. No you really should.

Thursday, 24 August 2006

Nothing comes free in life

This week has been so full of meetings and workshops and seminars and dialogue sessions that I have yet to pay for my own lunch. Although nice in one sense to be able to enjoy the hospitality of others I must admit to a certain element of disappointment in the catering offered by many workplaces around Wellington.

The best catering by far remains a lunch from a few years back provided by Transpower. Among other delicacies, we had orzo salad served in tiny individual boxes straight out of American sitcom chinese takeaways and the succulent sausage rolls were as wide as my forearm is long.

Next best was arguably afternoon tea at Te Papa yesterday. Pistachio, swiss cheese and chargrilled pepper scones in tiny cupcake cases with massive trays of english tea sandwiches of the ham (off the bone) and (vine-ripened) tomato variety with cucumber and swiss cheese sandwiches thrown in for... well... variety.

Every other catered event has largely paled in comparison, which is sad. I know I'm prone to harbouring more discerning standards but more often than not I find myself surrounded by people bereft of culinary options before them that they'd pursue with any sense of want or desire.

Which is a shame really, because I've always been a firm believer that the value of any meeting rests on the merits of its catering.

Maybe its a Maori thing.

My family have always remembered tangi's by the hakari that came with it. Embarrassing moments during the tangi and the awkward arrival of unwanted people among the mourning throng rarely feature as anything other than colour to an image largely derived from the quantity and quality of the food served at the hakari.

As the token brown face of this blog, you'll just have to take my word on that.

Toy-like people make me boy-like

Forgive the defensive response but I'm not sure I see what the problem is.

The reality is that boys like toys.

I'm not the only boy who likes toys. After all JJ buys beer and Mister Chris buys books. Me? Well, right now I buy toys. I didn't use to buy toys and I probably won't buy toys when I find something else to spend my money on.

That's right. My money. Not someone else's. Mine. I'm not embezzling money from retirement funds to pay for them. I'm not knocking off banks. I certainly don't have the grace and physique for counter-jumping.

People, there are absolute truths in this world...



Women drivers.

Boys like toys.

Guess what? I'm a boy and I like toys.

Wednesday, 23 August 2006

In memory of the recently dearly departed...

I give you Death From Above 1979's Sexy Results (Mstrkrft Edition). They decided to call it quits after completing tour commitments, which is a shame.

Well no, it fucking sucks.

Thankfully one half of DFA 1979 will continue as MSTRKRFT but its not the same. So as homage to DFA 1979, I give you one of their songs ironically remixed by one of their own.

Yes her breasts really are singing to you.

Ladies, that is why guys stare at your chest.

Well, lady.

Most of you are of the less feminine persuasion.

Tuesday, 22 August 2006

This WHAT THE FUCK? moment is brought to by Choysa and TV3

No seriously, what the hell is the pinupgirl of 1990s indie film doing on Boston Legal?

Slumming it as a psychological oddity known as The Squid, the once mighty Parker Posey seems to have fallen into the decidedly less independent depths of mainstream commercial television. Times must be tough for the little lady.

The same could of course be said for James Spader given he shares similar fame as a posterboy for 1990s indie film (albeit different films to Ms Posey) but then his character is more interesting and far more awkwardly engaging than hers.

Forgive the digression, but am I the only one to notice that the Boston Legal Alan Shore seems far less venal and overtly corrupt than The Practice Alan Shore. That visibly disappoints me. I miss Alan from The Practice. I don't miss The Practice. Just Alan.

No it wasn't a slow night for The Whore.

If Jeremiah was a bullfrog, does that make him a friend of mine?

Speaking of frogs and friends, a remnant from a particularly painful time halfway through last year's film festival has since resurfaced in our nation's capital.

I'm not sure if I want to see him, but you never know.

After all, wiser men than me have said "once a whore, always a whore..."


Well it will be when I buy another box of dunny's. Pay day can't come soon enough!

Ok maybe I do need 'professional help'.

Monday, 21 August 2006

Some more Presets action for ya

Why? Because I can.

It'd be great to see these guys live. Shame they're touring the States at the moment. How gutted do I feel? Not very. I'm feeling about as solid as the pork riblet sub Mister Chris got from *gags* Subway. And to think it was for my benefit too.

I'm sorry, did someone scream "Oh the humanity!"?

Thursday, 17 August 2006

How's your gaydar?


Apparently there was eyecandy at the breakfast table this morning and he didn't even register on my gaydar. I saw him but I didn't exactly 'see' him.

Could this be a sign I am going... well... straight?

If so, we may be having brown babies soon enough my dear.

Applications are now open

The Adorable Newbie and I are both very excited to be able to offer a successful applicant the opportunity to embark on an illustrious career in the daytime entertainment industry.

Applicants should be aware that the position involves occupying the middle room in the hovel across the road.

Applicants must be exhibitionist and oppose curtains as a constraint against your freedom of 'personal expression'. Must also be at home between the hours of 9:00am and 5:00pm on weekdays.

Oh and tasty to look at otherwise its a wasted effort.

How could you possibly say no to this...
Nothing says "good morning sunshine" quite like a flag pole right outside your window.

Wednesday, 16 August 2006

Well? Are you?

I don't know if its the infectious handclapping or the thumping beat but this is one song I am seriously loving. The Presets have always been a bit weird and not in that way that Australians are either. They've opened for Soulwax at a fair few gigs and seem quite chummy with similarly antipodean act Van She with Van She producing a killer remix of this song that even JJ should like.

That said he does listen to GNR.


*shakes in disgust*

This is what my nightmares are swiftly becoming.

Only I don't have a french accent.

Or monologue to a roving video camera.

Or wear a pink t-shirt. I'm not that gay. Do you see my wrists all limp and languid? I didn't think so.

They sit on a shelf. Still. Silent. Watching my every move. It's spooky. Almost like they're waiting for their opportunity. Their chance to pounce.


Tuesday, 15 August 2006

Small mercies

I was flipping through the Listener* last night and came upon TV columnist Diana Wichtel's commentary on the mordire scheduling afforded some of our better kiwimade shows to come out in recent weeks and months. The premise of the item seemed to be that TVNZ programmers shied away from anything even remotely intelligent lest TVONE lose viewers to less educational (read: mentally-exhausting) fare.

Educational fare in my day was Sesame Street, The Electric Company and Mr Rogers' Neighbourhood (*sings* Who are the people in your neighbourhood? In your neighbourhood? In your neighb-bour-hoo-ood?). As far as I can tell Artsville isn't quite so... well... simplistic. I'm all for watching shows that although entertaining invariably leave us better informed come the rolling credits. Richard Till's The Kiwi Kitchen is a perfect example. Every week we learn about a different aspect of how New Zealanders enjoyed food. One week it was all about the THC hostels, an anachronism of a bygone era only my parents could recall, and the frightfully kitschy dishes that used to exist New Zealanders back then. His effort to make Spanish Cream still brings a smile to the face. Think sweet scrambled eggs served as a dessert once viewed as the height of sophistication.

Similarly an item on Artsville about nude painting in New Zealand made for great entertainment. The male nude model who felt his physique was a duty to art was hilarious in itself.

That such trivial yet immensely engaging fare is rare on primetime is perhaps testament to the freedom these shows enjoy from product placement and ever-present requirement to cater to the majority. Absolutely Fabulous was great in the beginning before the show outlived its humour and continued for reasons other than comedy. The same can be said for so many other shows.

Yes it does suck that excellent shows rarely get a fair go in decent timeslots, but I can't help but wonder if their relative obscurity is a necessarily good thing. My one complaint is that The Kiwi Kitchen competes with Project Runway on Friday nights. What's up with that?!?!?!

* I'd just like to point out that I don't buy the Listener or pay for it in any way. Not one cent of my hard-spent salary goes towards supporting that depressingly activist weekly publication. sometimes you just want something to read as a distraction. For variety. Inevitably, the Listener ends up fulfilling that role for me. I know thats incredibly sad but you just have to think of it as Playboy minus the social acceptance.

Monday, 14 August 2006

Remind you of anyone?

No... really.

Who the hell let Evanescence come out with a second album?

I mean, people please. It's bad enough Paris Hilton thinks she can sing without these guys coming back to ruin our airwaves once more.

Which reminds me... Moloko's come out with their greatest hits after a lacklustre effort with Statues. They're all good tracks but you should already have the bulk of them from the original albums. The greatest hits (I forget what the CD is called) also comes as a special edition with live tracks from a show in Brixton so probably better to opt for that than the one you can get 2 for $50 at Sounds.

Speaking of 2 for $50 at Sounds, does anyone know if the new Paul Oakenfold is any good? Faster Kill Pussycat isn't bad as a first track of the CD but needs the help of a hefty remix to really jump from the earbuds. The vocalists used on this latest effort mean very little to me so am less than convinced whether I should buy it.

The iPod needs feeding people!

I am The Whore and I am a man obsessed

The toy chest is positively bursting with new acquisitions since pay day last week. Shameful I know but they look really rather cool. Imagine if you will a three-inch vinyl bunny with swivelling head and arms. Now imagine this bunny given to 18 leading designers to come up with their own unique design and then imagine these being made available for me to hunt down and revel having on display in my own sanctu sanctorum. I bought a pack of them in 25 blind boxes this morning and I've never been so giddy. How giddy? Too giddy to eat my friends.

If ever there was anything that was too cool for school, the Huck Gee designed dunny would be it...
Yes he is holding a tiny plastic sharpie.

Or maybe these dunny's...

The dunny in the middle is wearing a removable muzzle and EKG has one of the Joe Ledbetter designed dunnies on the right.

I don't know. I'm torn!

Thankfully I'm not Natalie Imbruglia.

The weekend that... was?

The events of this weekend are a bit hazy so please bear with me.

I remember a colleague confirming I was on the invite list for the Melbourne cup at the Aussie High Commission later this year. Yuss!

I remember serendipitously bumping into the big bunny owners outside Good as Gold.

I remember discussing 'nibbling' with Her Floralness through the interpretative medium of txt.

I remember a uniformly brief family dinner at Tinakori Bistro.

I remember spending more time oberving the dynamics of the 30-something singles at the tale next to ours. It was memorable because the chick that thought she was hot was really into the hottest guy there (which isn't saying much) until about halfway through their dinner when she finally twigged he was quite dull. Also, she was visibly disappointed when the loud irish woman at the other end of the table would steal his attentions. Short stuff from the states was getting nowhere with her and the same went for loud geek boy just across from loud irish woman. I sincerely doubted anyone of them would have got any that night.

I remember a few more things that I think happened later on but they're a bit sketchy. What little I do remember rather appropriately fits in the Too Shameful To Mention section of Things The Whore Could Write.

Oops, how rude of me! How was your weekend?

Friday, 11 August 2006

Colour me pleasantly surprised

I cracked open the cheese in a tin and the cheese wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Creamy texture, delicate savoury character and a not unpleasant aroma (well once it had a chance to breathe). It lacks the depth of a double cream brie

Colour me pleasantly surprised that German cheese isn't the culinary monstrosity such a moniker might suggest.

Very tasty.

Would you like some?

Thursday, 10 August 2006

I'm sorry did someone say hot pants?

I've been invited to a seven deadly sins party this weekend that is guaranteed to involve skinny boys in hot pants, the girls that wish they were straight, and... well... me should I decide to go. Jay seemed almost insistent that I do go but then he's prone to insisting on a fair bit.

Call me proud but the whole themed party with appropriately themed attire doesn't really do anything for me. Everyone there either pikes on the dress code or turns up bedecked in half-assed attempts at banal humour or humour-crushing homages to obscurity. Need I remind you of Denzel's 'law suit' in Philadelphia? I thought not.

Besides, how self-conscious would I be next to half-naked hot boys of the gogo variety? Very, is the word I'm looking for people. Suffocating as my ego is there are limits to the delusions it affords my less than modest self. I used to be brown and buff once. It's hard not to be envious for a physique I once possessed, but lost in the epic (yet largely untold) vagaries of high school. I may yet regain the brown buffness of yore. Well... maybe. I don't know. I'm definitely losing weight and my clothes no longer fit me properly, but I can't help but think this is more a fortunate consequence to an unfortunate situation. I'd be the last to engage in the artifice of vanity that is dieting and *gags* exercise.

Far too lazy for any of that nonsense these days. I'm far too fond of the word gin to gym and don't see that changing anytime soon.

Sad but true I'm afraid. Please don't get angry. As the old saying goes, don't get mad... get even. I doubt that truer words have ever been spoken. There is an inherent beauty to the skillful exercise of malice. I've seen it wielded with almost unconscious dexterity towards the weak of spirit and believe you me when I say it almost brought a tear to the eye. Thankfully I was merely a spectator in the theatre of life and whether tragic, comic or tragicomic it all comes down to good entertainment.

On second thought... maybe I will go to the party.

Wednesday, 9 August 2006

Buy me one for christmas?


Pretty please...

I'll be your friend...

If you do get me one, you should probably know my people celebrate christmas next week so you might want to get hopping!

Tuesday, 8 August 2006

More than meets the eye?

It doesn't exactly show much but something is better than nothing.

Monday, 7 August 2006

Fun with Fruit

This week on Fun with Fruit we feature a tin of Golden Sun mandarin sgements in light syrup. I noticed it this morning in my bottom office drawer. Actually I've known its been there for a few years now but I've never really been sure why it was there.

Maybe I was drunk...

But if I was drunk, why would I come to work with a tin of mandarin segments in light syrup? Ponderosa and Hummingbird have become my alcoholic homes of late so I'm no longer known for imbibing down this end of town. Well not for a fair few years at least. Actually that would fit with the inordinate length of time the semi-mysterious tin has surrpetitiously occupied my working environment.

But the after-hours drinking doesn't explain the tin of mandarins. I remember having them for the first time as garish (oops, garnish - Freudian slip?) with chocolate mousse my mother used to make for special occassions. Quite the 80s gesture of sophistication apparently. Seems rather tacky in hindsight. Quite tasty but tacky.

I remember what chocolate used to taste like. Chocolate Used to taste of sin, decadence and guilty pleasures. Once a cherished part of my life, it now has the unpleasant patina of diabetic coma about it and I think we all know that nothing ruins a come-on quite like a mid-sentence diabetic coma.

But I digress.

I have a super special prize for anyone who can tell me why I have a tin of mandarin segments in my office drawer.

The film festival that was

My film festival experience was actually quite good by all accounts.

Deliciouslty random, virtuously violent, terribly twisted and awkwardly humurous are some of the ways one might describe my film festival experience. This all despite my lacklustre attempt to get out and see half as many films as have been managed in previous years. Not bad at all.

I know I said I'd provide a proper review of the films but I can't really be bothered. Far too many of the funny bits, wryly ironic bits and graphically violent bits worthy of mention are best left as "you really should have been there" moments. Why? Because you really should have been there and with the exception of Mister Chris you weren't. Thats an observation, not a criticism

Besides, I've had my fill of films for a while yet. The moving image has been almost too painful to watch these last few days. Mind you, we have been beset by Sweet Home Alabama and similarly light fare of the cringeing persuasion.

Bring on the written word is all I can say. Thankfully I have a healthy stack of David Sedaris and Cormac McCarthy to keep me going.

What's keeping you going?

The results are in...

and I didn't win the limited edition dalek print at popup.

I didn't win lotto either.

Or the girl.

So much for the winning streak.

Wednesday, 2 August 2006

Where all your Christmases come at once

The mauve controversy and blood test butchery notwithstanding this week is turning into quite the marvellous week.

Monday remains a bit of a blur, yesterday was capped off with a blinder of an evening and this morning has seen the delivery of some rather good news on the health front.

Fingers crossed the good fortune continues.

Maybe I should buy something.

Her Floralness looks hot as a ginga. I know it sounds wrong to say that about a person of the redhead persuasion but there's no arguing against the evidence.

Tuesday, 1 August 2006

Divine retribution?

Every couple weeks I suffer the indignity of having my blood tested to work out to the rate at which my body inexorably falls ever further into decrepitude. I don't mind the trip to The Terrace quite so much as the ever-changing brigade of nurses that herd me like a cattle beast into a small windowless room with obscenely low ceilings. If ever there was a reason to be claustrophobic, those rooms would be it.

But I digress. Suffice to say I'm less than impressed when today's nurse misread the blood test form. Normally this wouldn't be such a bad thing but when one has so many ticks on the form to be fulfilled, you can understand my disappointment at suffering not one slew of bloods being taken but two. My arms are near-numb and I've never felt so woozy.

Your outpourings of heartfelt sympathy are truly touching.

People please!

Let me type it again in case it hasn't sunk in yet.