Move on, people

This blog will no longer serve to amuse, irritate, or distract you. It is dead to me.

Cheers for reading and commenting. It's been fun. I've had over 12,000 hits on the site and that isn't too shabby for less than a year of blogging and counting the hits.

Ben - it is the thesis. I've 65 days to hand in a good draft. I need to kick arse. My own. Have been treading water for far, far too long. Time to become who I want to become. Or something.

It's all part of my long term repositioning strategy.

Anyway.

Bye.

Dave.


ps new site is http://dave.stuff.gen.nz/wp/index.php. remember to update links, bookmarks etc.

Death to Bloggy

Although this blog is stumbling ever closer to doom, there may be salvation through resurrection. Thanks to the magic of Mog and Si (once I dutifully 'show him the love') I could get a stuff.gen.nz account. Which would be cool.

Mutually beneficial arrangement. I get my own wang site, they get a blogger who actually knows how to update.

For the love of god, Ben, she's been gone nearly half a week - blog already.

Death row

I came this close (fingers pretty close together) to deleting this blog moments ago. It got a temporary reprieve due to an NBC camera man getting in the way.

Deleted him instead.

Muntface

In keeping with my policy of wanting to do work (honestly) but being unable to really do much due to large brick wall a metre from my friggen head [note - this, like Aranui, is metaphorical], I ended up carting Tim around town. Truely, I am a taxi and will be ridden always. Bonus was free pie, coke and world of warcraft for a couple of hours. Awesome.

My character (hereafter known as 'me') was an undead warlock. I named me Muntface after a couple of earlier names had been snapped up. One of the benefits of being a warlock is that you can get a minion after completing a short quest. Minions are cool and one day I wish to get some for real. My Muntface minion was an imp. I'm not sure I want a real imp in real life. He tended to have a strong affinity with fire, and as we saw in a previous entry, Fire and Dave make for comic adventures. Perhaps my minion will be a small dog or child of some description.

I digress.

World of Warcraft is cool. I never really got into the warcraft games as they tended to be overly suck. But this is cool. I can use fireballs to make people burn, and use lightening to make people dead. This is good. Quests aren't too difficult, and I made level five in under a couple of hours. When you die, your ghost runs back to your body - doesn't take long and seems like an appropriate punishment for the death and all. Some people don't have much of an attention span.

Now I just need
1) pc
2) money
3) game
4) to finish thesis.

Please note, above was not in order of importance.

I need game.

Awesome

I've moved into my new flat. It is good, largely because it involved moving out of my old flat, which was bad. Claire and I put in a rather substantial amount of time cleaning the place, killing the spiders, mould etc, mowing the lawns and doing the garden and getting rid of junk and I have to say we did a pretty good job. Place looked better (far, far better) than it did when we moved in. New flat is cool. Although my room faces south and get very little sun, it is dry. This is good. Usually I can press a cup to the wall and have it fill with water or bees (depending on how thirsty I am). We have a pool table, fooze-ball table, macked out bbq, sky digital, surround sound, dvd action and a cat that runs away whenever he/she/it sees me. Good judge of character. It's also in walking distance to uni. For those of you who thought it was in Aranui - no. It was a subtle ploy designed to make you think I was going to live in Aranui. I didn't think it would actually work, but I'm constantly suprised.

Also awesome was Si tonight with the theatre and the sports and the laughter. Best show I've (yet) seen. Si was Indifferent Man who had to save the world from Shifty Man. Hilarity ensued. As did poor jokes about Christopher Reeve being 'Disembodied Voice'. Emily C and I had a good time... could have sworn more people were going to show.

And on a slightly more grim and depressing note, listen to Elliot Smith's recent 'from a basement on the hill '. Particularly King's Crossing. A bit patchy in places but very very good.

It could happen to anyone...

Last night started off pretty well. Claire cooked Charlie and I nachos and we sat around drinking ginger beer talking about intellectual issues like the fine lovers of fine love that we are and are known to be. I fell asleep on a big comfy leather lazyboy while Claire made a hat for Cup Day and Charlie played guitar. Haven't had much sleep this week. Good times. Dropped Charlie off and went home to find Peverel was all fine. Bachelor pad! No bachelorette to share it with at the moment, but at it enabled me to do those things blokes like to do when no-one's watching - read Womans Day. Nic called around 11 to ask for a ride back to his place. At the moment Nic has no car and lives close to hokitika. Agreed and we arranged so that he'd call when he was ready. I went back to slaying many orcs in Return of the King on xbox. Very pretty.

Am in the process of moving out and throwing stuff away. Rubbish day was today. It was important I put the rubbish out today.

Nic called at 11.30ish. Grebbed wallet and phone, groped pocket for keys, closed all windows and locked all doors to make sure no-one could get in when I was out and went outside, locking door behind me.

Bugger.

Those aren't keys. That's money. Damnit locked out. Quick, call Nic and explain.

Bugger.

Phone has no money.

Walked, ran and hobbled on my gammy ankle (I'm trying to save my good one) to brothers house, hoping he was still up and could lend me either his car or his keys to my car. I don't have keys to his, and even if I did they were locked inside my flat.... Lights on in Greg's flat - door open, flatmates in their rooms. Knock, open door. Nothing. Wander over to Greg's room. Light on, not home. Probably out drinking celebrating finishing exams and possibly uni. Bastard. Wander around flat some more. Knock and call out. Nothing. Flatmates in room turn their lights out. I could take anything I wanted. Damn morality. Give up finding Greg under couch and don't want to look in his room for keys. Leave flat grumbling.

Five options. Walk to Ben's place and hope he's home. Walk to Charlie's place and sleep on the couch. Walk to Varsity and get security to let me into office so that I could do work and sleep on floor. Walk along Riccarton Road, hope Nic calls and share taxi with him to his place. Or walk the streets and wind up on the otherside of town at Claire's pad so I can grab the one spare key in the morning.

Ankle saw and swollen. I'm a soft pansy. Walk toward Ben's place. Change mind. Walk toward uni. Change mind. Walkd toward town and Nic. Get text at 12.05 asking if I was still alive. Sweet but not very practical. Keep walking. Get phone call from Nic when I got to Riccarton mall asking whether I was still alive. Much more practical. Laughs at me (rightly so). Plan formulated - Nic will get Tim to get him and get me. Start to walk back to flat. Turn into Peverel.

Oh bugger.

Fire.

Flat on street is going up in flames. Looks like wall and kitchen. Call 111. Never done this before. Answer very quickly and I'm put through to fire. Inform dude of what's going on, where it is, etc. He tells me to try and make myself and the fire known to residents. Hobble toward blaze. Fire scares the hell out of me (although in small doses it's pretty). Lights on in house. Door open. Students in backyard surrounding very large bonfire made up of what look like old palalates a couple of meters from wall. Munters. Call 111 and get put through to fire again. Get same guy. Tell him what's going on and apologise. No worries, mate, he says. The fire engines will still come because there shouldn't be anything like that at this time of night. Fair enough. Two fire engine arrive 15 minutes after I first call 111. Impressed. One goes. The other uses hose to put out fire. Cool. Takes seven minutes to arrive, reverse, put fire out, give warning etc to residents (I imagine) and leave. Impressed. Good work fire department.

Nic and Tim arrive after fire engines leave, missing out on the coolness of big red fire trucks. Drop Nic off in Wigram and back to Tim's. Watch him play World of Warcraft. He's modelled his character on himself. Tusks really accentuate his eyes. Fall asleep on couch. Laughed at in morning by flatmates including one I haven't met yet. They leave. Bobby (cat) laughs and molests me.

Now have to get in touch with Claire at the races to get key back to flat to organise the rubbish that won't be put out today.

Random bloody night.

Moral of the story: Ben, Charlie, get yourself a car and a license.

World first photo

You know that little voice that tells you that you want another drink, another drink, that girl in the corner, or the matches to make everything burn, laddie? Scientists at UCLA have recently developed new technology that can actually photograph that little devil on the shoulder. Early results indicate test subject actively discussing the situation with said devil, who appears to be engaged in song. Transcription of the conversation is not yet available, but may be soon in comments section once Ben (re)learns how to type.

UPDATE: Grandma peacekeeper suspected of being a terrorist.

Surreality

Have shifted all of the big items out of current flat to new flat, brother's flat, Charlie and Pete's shagpad and Sara's garage. Sara is clearly awesome. Nic helped the shift - supplying the trailer and man-power. My gammy ankle is acting up, indicating that either trouble's a'brewin' or I shouldn't play soccer tonight. Damn stupid fake plastic body. I'll be on the sideline ready to kick a boot into anyone's face, should the need or urge arise. I'm taking the credit for Nic's newfound 'man-power' and will be putting away the 'butch up girly pants' call until further notice.

Shifting flats always disorientates me. As does daylight - which I'm currently seeing more of. Need to shift pasty white skin into pasty bronzed skin.

Family news - which I ordanarily keep away from my public (ha) isn't so flash. The good news is Nan will be shifting up the a resting home close to Mum and Dad. The bad news is that shortly she won't know who we are. Knew this was coming, but still it's not that fun. Saw Mum at the airport today as she's been down in Dunedin and Milton sorting all the affairs out. She's pretty good considering - although she's lost weight and the mortality of her mother has hit home. I feel bad for Nan but worse for Mum. It's almost expected of grandparents but parents are a different matter.

A little odd at the moment but surreality is just a funked up version of reality which I rarely inhabit so all should be good and clear shortly.

Bugger

Plans to go to New York on a semi-regular basis have stalled somewhat as my chin is still firmly stuck on the floor. I wish the cleaners would do a better job around here. Bush got a majority of the popular vote. Ma-jo-ri-ty. That's more than 50%. It's taking a while for my head to get around this concept. While there were a few dodgy situations - one lady was allowed to change her vote after pressing 'Kerry' on the computer and having it come up as 'Bush' - it seems there isn't the same level of corruption that there was 4 years ago.

In order for us to understand how Bush won, lets look at the reasons voters gave as determining factors in the race.

Morality.
Economy.
Terrorism.
Health care.
Taxes.
Education.

Fair enough. Can't have two men in love with each other while the economy bombs. And the bombs bomb.

*anger*

Still, I win $5 off my old man for calling it. And Margaret Wilson knows where I live.

I just feel sorry for the wolves. Their numbers are bound to go down as the war on terrorism extends to things people saw on the box.

Favourite campaign tactic of the year: 'Kerry will ban the bible if elected'. Classic.

In good news... A.M.P.C. has made the final of the indoor soccer comp. An inspired effort by all involved. Except me as I limped off early in the 2nd half after being taken out by Muntface. Hopefully ankle will be ok by Sunday 6.15 Action Indoor Sports (be there, do it!) or the lads will be without their beloved leader and captain. This is your chance to see Tim 'I am the weasel' Street, Nic 'My ass is not weak' Mason, Johnny 'peow peow' Smith, Hamish 'Come here and say that' Wall, David 'Jumpy' Miller, Andrew 'Andy' Surname, David 'You're pretty for a munter' Searle and Amanda 'do you want ice on that?' Cliff in action. We could even get a trophy. I'm working on our acceptance speech.

In non-geek news

Ma'a Nonu wears makeup while playing rugby. Hahahahaha. Pansy.

I can't back that up. I've worn (and can put on my own) makeup. But that's not when playing rugby.

There is also an election on. Or something resembling one.

Dave's authentic long-term repositioning strategy

I'm going on hiatus from you lot. Offline as well as online. I'm severing contact with the outside world in an attempt to delve into the inner world of 'thesis' and 'moving out of the flat'. There are several reasons for this which I will attempt to pass off as reason.

1) Thesis needs love. Current chapter was meant to be 4-6,000 words. Currently 3,200 and only about 1/3 of the way through said chapter. All chapters currently turning into monster chapter. Damnit.

2) Current company way to geeky*. When I can understand Si's joke about a candle being +3 on defensive roles I feel worried. There is a sudden urge to talk beer, rugby and tits, grow a mullet and go around impregnating ho's. That is an over-reaction and my id's attempt to revert back to the summer of 89. Where I was 8. And rather progressive. Steps need to be taken to ensure I don't end up paying child support to twins named Ethyl and Methyl.

3) Fi is in Oz - or will be in 12 hours. This will concentrate the geek factor mentioned above. When she returns I might be able to crawl out of my alpha-male/better-male bunker that will protect me from the current geekfest.

4) Lack of money.

5) Moving out of flat into summer flat of love. Woohoo! There 4 guitars in flat for the 2 of us that can play (in a loose sense of the word) and sweet sweet bbq action. The address is... somewhere out in Aranui.

Friday and Saturday nights should still be good.

All with good intentions. Like Nic and his anti-alcohol/texting/women stance.

Also - election coverage starts at 2pm Wednesday 3rd. Finishes 6pm. Mark Sainsbury is giving us his in-depth knowledge about US politics like the question he asked Bill Clinton. 'Why should NZ care about the US election?' At least we can start on a downer. Most of you will be at work. Suck it. I'll be trying to crawl through a window to the Street's pad and hot tv action. He doesn't know this yet. Shoosh.

Anyway, I'm off to wear a tie to bed.

*geeky. Not to be confused with the nerd-geek continuum. In that scenario 'geek' is good. In this case, geek is not good.