Friday, December 30, 2005

Argh! Government Departments!

Ok, so it's inevitable that eventually, every self-respecting blogger will post about a government department and the wrongs they have done.

This particular complaint is about Work and Income New Zealand.

I normally have very little problems with them. They've given me money when I've quit my job, they've helped me to find work, and their offices have nice plants in them.

But this time. I moved cities, and coincidentally, I had just finished studying. So my student allowance was cut off, and because it was the middle of Christmas, I couldn't very well find a job, in amongst eating ham, drinking champagne and unwrapping my whole one present.

So WINZ won't give me an appointment till the 5th of January. Hmm, I've already had two weeks without money. Now I have to wait another two weeks. I am sharing a room with my mother, I'm a smoker and I have NEEDS damnit!


Wednesday, December 21, 2005


When you're a small child, seeing your grandparents (if they were awesome and not grumpy old wrinklies) was the highlight of your little lives. Basically because they wouldn't stiff you out of lollies like your parents did.

When you enter your tweens (early twenties), and you suddenly find yourself living with a grandparent, you find yourself noticing lots of peculiar rituals that these odd creatures do each day. I will give you some exciting examples.

1) Pulling the curtains closed at 4PM in the middle of summer to keep the imaginary draught and darkness from penetrating their little corner of the world.

2) Collecting figurines and garden ornaments of just the one animal. (It's frogs here) There are soft-toy frogs, giant painted frogs, frogs that go 'RIBBIT' at 200 Decibels when you walk past it's sensor and require a trip to your underwear drawer.

3) Ticking clocks. It is a requirement for anyone over the age of 60 to have at least 12 ticking clocks situated in their house. All of the ticking is syncronised.

4) Photos. Photos of everyone they have known over the past 80 years. Therefore each room has 500 photos placed precariously around the room. None of these photos overlap.

5) Address books. Address books situated next to reading glasses. Look inside these address books and you will find pages upon pages of spidery writing documenting each family members previous 15 addresses. None of these people are still alive.

6) Cushions. All elderly people have at least eight cushions on each couch or chair.

7) Cards, Christmas cards, birthday cards, strung in a line, directly across the middle of the room.

Ahh, the elderly. Wicked fun.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Undeserving Winners of the Mercury Prize.

Last year Franz Ferdinand won this coveted British award, and by god did they deserve it. I love those crazy fuckers. Yet this year a giant man sporting man boobs and a cher wig won it. (Antony and the Johnsons) Now don't get me wrong, his physical appearance is not the reason I feel he is undeserving. Although he certainly shouldn't get ANY prizes for that. It's his voice that sprouts the seed of malcontent within me. His voice is nothing short of a sharp pencil in the ear, twisted slowly half a dozen times, pulled sharply out only to be rammed two inches back inside your ear.

In other words, it's atrocious.

And the references to Nina Simone are WAY off.


Monday, December 12, 2005


Ok, so golf is possibly one of the greatest topics that are whinge-worthy for me (and if that line doesn't make sense, it's because I just crawled out of bed)

1) Golf is boring. It involves hitting a little ball, walking, hitting the little ball again, walking another three kilometres, hitting the ball again, walking more, hitting the ball, getting pissed off, hitting the caddy with the golf stick hitter thing, walking more, hitting the ball into the hole, then passing out from the scorching heat and walking the equivalent of a marathon after a godforsaken little while ball.

2) If you're good enough at hitting that little white ball, you can make 50 million dollars. Hell, I'm good a chewing my fingernails and spitting them at the cat, but I don't get a reward for being awesome at something so trivial.

3) Watching golf is about as exciting as giving out the doilies and meatpack raffle at nana's indoor bowls game down at the Presbyterian church, where all the women call you Sally and the men gawk at your jubblies.

4) 50 million dollars! Do you know what 50 million dollars could do for the local community in whichever town you care to associate this golf whinge about. A lot, you're right.

I've just realised that there is one positive thing about golf.

Happy Gilmore.