On Mysterious girl.

It hasn't been long since I last decided to finish some work. That didn't work, but I have managed to figure out how to add the paypal button onto the links column. Now I can sit back and wait for the money to trickle in. One day there will be enough to buy a small shack in Southland, one with a verandah, rocking chair, cheap and nasty homemade vodka, and a banjo with which I can serenade visitors.

I think a clarification is in order. Not about the shack and banjo, I'll stand by that dream, but more about 'mysterious girl' whom I mentioned in my last column. Indeed, this is a constant source of amusement for a large number of people. I'm not exactly sure why, and I think I need to take a little bit of time to clarify some points and refute others.

Firstly, mysterious girl is someone who I do know. I was in a tutorial or class with her once. It might have been Australia to 1901. Anyway, we have talked etc and she seems like a perfectly nice girl who is intelligent and happens to by jaw dropping-ly stunning. Every now and then I might pass her at uni and smile - she'll smile back, or vice versa. Lovely. I keep meaning to ask her for coffee, or get her name/number. So far she always seems to be talking to other people, and I'm a bit of a wimp.

Secondly, I have to refute some suggestions that have been put forward by others. Charlie suggested that I break both legs so she can't get away. a) no, and b) what does that imply about my attractability? (it's a word). Older Dave has suggested that I jump out from the garden one day and grab her. I don't think that is a terribly constructive argument - however he has apparently got a girlfriend so perhaps it worked for him. I'm also hesitant on employing someone to move in and scope her out (what a horrible phrase), as has been suggested, I think, by both Hayley and Claire.

To externalise hopes etc onto another is a natural part of human psychology. Parents do it with their kids, politicians with their constituents (bastards), and sports fans onto the All Blacks. The only danger, really, is in taking this too far. Braking legs, while it may have worked for Annie Wilkes in Misery, is illegal and also rather distasteful. I'm just going to keep acting smooth (insert laugh here) and see what happens. It's these mad-dog friends I have that I think are the real worry.

But if anyone does have any suggestions email me and I'll see. I'll post some back later if they get interesting.

On Liftoff.

My first blog. It's a big step, really. A few months ago I didn't even know what a blog was. Hell, a few months ago I didn't know that it was possible for an alcohol-based life form to exist. Then I met Ben, who has since adopted our couch as his new holding pen (damn you, Tim and Sara).

I don't even really know why I'm creating a blog. Nah, that's a lie. I want to try and look sophisticated and intelligent. Clearly that won't work for anyone that actually reads this, but if (and when) I actually manage to get mysterious girl's phone number/name and engage her in a conversation I could slip it into our witty banter. Which will either impress her or give her the impression that I am a nerd, and not the geek which I want to be.

And it provides a handy forum to vent, angrily yet with a racy, saucy and, at times, an intelligent humour, about issues that are causing me frustration or amusement.

Plus I get to procrastinate from my thesis. With practise I could learn to be like Tim, Ben or even Nic, who takes on an interesting shade of blueish red (it's a colour) whenever anyone mentions the word.

And on that note, I'm going to do some work.