Now, who can I invoice for those missing three hours?

I have to say, 3.15 am is far too early for the alarm to go off if you're not a taxi driver or a midwife.

Which I am neither.

It's even worse when, at 5.00 a.m, the job gets postponed and you get to look forward to doing it all over again tomorrow.

The post that gets written when you're doing your damnedest to not start the project you've been putting off all day.

So out and about today, I saw a man. And he didn't look, well, quite like your ordinary bloke.

His hair was a medley of grey, black and ginger - tortoiseshell, if you will. He was balding and it was very long. (Which, if we're being honest, is never a good combination, there should be legislation against it).

He was wearing little heels, women's trousers and a navy (man) jersey and he had a fetching little black handbag with a silver chain over-the-shoulder strap.

It was quite sensational, I did a really bad job at trying not to stare. I wanted to follow him and find out his story. But I didn't.

And he didn't look anything at all like this man.

But I just wanted to find a reason to crowbar the nice man's picture into this post.

(And call me a Fashion Ignoramus, but the skirt isn't quite working for me, what do you think ?)

Rhianna, honey, are you missing something?

This was what Rhianna was wearing as she performed in Times Square for Good Morning America on Tuesday.I think it could be described as 'not much'.

Call me old fashioned, but wouldn't you get a really cold arse?

I think the technical term for that jacket (and you have to say it with an Australian accent cause an Australian told me and it sounds better in Australian), is a bum freezer.

I will stop shamelessly cutting and pasting from other websites..

....but not while Awkward Family Photo are posting shots like this.

I'm sorry, but nothing that comes out of my head can ever beat a shot like this.

Now, pulling out my crystal ball, I'm thinking that that baby has a future involving spray tan, gyms and protein drinks ahead of him/her.

And I'm really hoping that I'm wrong.

One of my more annoying habits...

....is, when someone is reading a book, to ask 'Is he dead yet?'

What are yours?

She's a hell of a way to get a job.

I recently caught up with a couple of friends of mine who had been living out of the country for ten years, but are now back.

They have been back for some time but this was the first time I'd seen them.

'Have you heard how I got my job?' Asked the female-half of the couple.

I hadn't. And now I have, well, it's just too good not to share.

She was returning for a flying visit in order to get some work and had jacked up two days' worth of back-to-back meetings. She was about a third of they way through them, when she had an interview at a workplace she really liked. Thought it was great and really wanted to work there.

The guy who was interviewing her asked her who she was seeing next, and she told him.

She's sitting in her next meeting when the woman who was interviewing her mobile phone rings, she answers it, then promptly hands the phone to my friend saying, 'It's for you.'

It was the guy from her previous meeting asking if she would consider coming back for a second meeting after she'd finished with her current one!

I've heard of creative ways of getting a job, but it's the first time I've heard of creative ways of securing an employee.

You got to applaud it, don't you?

Russian Roulette

Today I was dashing across the road and my phone made a break for freedom. It jumped out of my bag and landed on the road.

Right in front of the oncoming traffic.

I watched and waited for its imminent death.

One car. Straight over the top.

It missed!

Second car. Surely it's going to be taken out now.

Straight over the top again!

This is almost funny. Here comes the third car, surely my phone shall be exploded this time.

Straight. Over. The. Top.

I got the trifecta!

Phone is now drugged and grounded. Me? I'm off to buy to buy a lotto ticket.

Move over, Coco Chanel.

And a few more Tuesday gems for you from the glorious People of Walmart. I think this photo is so outstanding because she looks like she's so proud of being in her jim jams. (Those are her jim jams, aren't they?)

And I love this as it goes to show what an inspiration Marge Simpson continues to be around the world.

Yike Bike

I had a go on one of these last week. I was a little bit nervous and wobbly to begin with, but managed to stay on board and emerge from the experience having not made a complete arse of myself in front the guys who invented it.

They can go up to twenty kilometres an hour, the battery lasts for about ten kilometres and they weigh about ten kg and when they're all rolled up they just look like a big handbag.



I have to say, if you see four of them coming towards you at one time, you do feel like you're trapped in some type of futuristic film. I told the guys this and they said they were working on getting lasers to shoot out of the handle bars.

P.S I started writing this post last night and then saw this morning that the bike has made Time Magazine's Top 50 inventions for 2009, coming in at number fifteen.

Bloody good old Kiwi ingenuity, eh?

When political giants meet.

I was listening to National Radio this morning and I heard this headline:

'New Zealand Prime Minister John Key has met with a top member of the United States cabinet ahead of the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation summit in Singapore at the weekend.'

And then I heard this:

'Mr Key met with Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner for an hour upon arrival in Singapore on Thursday night, saying a wide range of topics was discussed, from climate change to the US economic recovery.'

So they say they discussed a wide range of topics - from climate change to the US economic recovery. So exactly in what depths were these topics discussed?

Timothy Geithner: 'Jarrrrrhnnnn!'

John Key: 'Tum!'

Shake hands enthusiastically.

Timother Geithner: 'Buddy!'

John Key: 'Maaaaate!'

Timothy Geithner: 'How's the weather been down in Nuuu Zeeeland, Jarhnboy?'

John Key: 'Shut. How's your economy, Tum?'

Timothy Geithner: 'Fucked.'

John Key: 'Guudo. Now, where's the buffet?'

The jumping gene strikes again.

I have spoken before of how some members of my family have been cursed by a rogue jumping gene.

My poor nephew, Master Sunshine, was suffering from a particularly nasty bout of it last weekend, it lashed out in full force. (There he is, the guy with no ground beneath his feet.)

Luckily this nasty dose of the jumping gene coincided with his Regional Skateboarding Championships, and he managed to turn the evil jumping gene's power to good - and he won.

*Aunt Laughy Hen gently bustles her feathers and quietly clucks proudly.*

Okay, I was not entirely right.

So there I was banging on yesterday, coming over all psychic-like,smugly predicting the front page of the Christchurch Press would have a photo of twenty-something drunken things behaving in a way they wished they hadn't at yesterday's races.

So this morning I was cancelling my free calling 0800psychic line when the front page carried no such photo. Nada. Not an iota.

But page three did have a shot of two men fighting and a woman falling over with her high heels in her hand. Funnily enough, I can't seem to find these shots online. But page five's shot was there. Thank you guys, I knew you were out there, somewhere.

People make life so interesting, especially when they're a little bit drunk.

Today it's Cup Day in Christchurch, a day that various websites rate as the biggest day in Christchurch's social calendar.

It's the giddy-ups doing the trots.

Hmmm, lets try that sentence again.

It's New Zealand Trotting Cup Day.

That's better.

It's a day when about twenty-five thousand leap at the chance to put on their finest, flock to Addington where they will spend the day drinking in the sun and some will fail to see a race.

Although I have never been to the Christchurch races (I have been to many other race meetings), today is fantastic people-watching around town. Lots of frocked-up people milling about till about midday, then they disappear and by five o'clock they start to filter back in: generally speaking not as frocked up, women are sporting the first sunburn of the season and if their high heels aren't yet in their hands, some are starting to topple from them.

And call me 0800psychic, but I'm picking the front of tomorrow's paper will sport a shot of some twenty somethings who lost the plot around four, but won't realise how banjaxed they were until they see a snap of themselves tumbling from the front page.

Roll on five o'clock.

How to make policemen lose all self respect.

1. Take away their cars.

2. Give them bikes.

Yup, that should do it.

I don't about you, but to me it appears that being a policeman would be a pretty thankless job. You get abused, you see tragedy and you have to deal the dark side of human nature on a regular basis.

But at least there was the little perk of getting a shiny car that goes fast, has flashing lights and a siren which can be very handy when you're in a hurry.

I don't think I would like my job as much if I got told to hand the keys over, was issued with a bike helmet, some high vis and told that from now on I was going to be a cycle cop.

But hey, maybe that's just me and it's just lucky I'm not a cop (cause on top of everything else, I would be a really bad one).

Obviously I would have been really rubbish at living in the nineteenth century.

There are many things I love about living in the 21st century: heat pumps, double glazing, puffa jackets, electric blankets, air travel and Ipods. The list would go on and on but I'm busy and feeling a little bit lazy.

Things I could really do without.

Malls.

I am sure I wouldn't find them as offensive if I had grown up with them, but mall culture is only about ten years old down here and no matter how hard I try, they just give me the shits.

What would you happily do without in the 21st century?

Now that's a journey.

When I was at primary school I had a friend that my father
named 'Phona' because we spent so much time on the telephone
talking to each other. God only knows what we talked about,
I'm imagining highbrow things like, 'I'm lying on the bed
and I can see a fly walking across the ceiling.'

I used to like going and staying the night at Phona's, we
would organise midnight feasts - and her mother would
actually go and buy us sweets for such occasions. Midnight
feasts in our household involved sneaking out of bed, arming
ourselves with two spoons and slowly working our way through
a three litre container of ice cream while sitting on the
deep freeze, hoping that we wouldn't be busted by my eagle
eared parents. And Phona was a really fussy eater, apart
from sweets, she would only eat potatoes and peas. There was
none of the 'If you don't eat your dinner you will get it
for breakfast' carry-on in her house.

Anyway, as lives do, ours then meandered off in opposite
directions. We went to different secondary schools, she went and
learnt how to be a hairdresser and set up her own business in
Palmerston North. I, meanwhile, embarked on a career of doing
no work at university until it eventually dawned on me that
in order to get a degree you actually have to attend lectures.

I would have last seen her at my grandfather's funeral
which was in 2000. But my Fruitcake mother has just
received a long, newsy email from her.

Pop quiz, where do you think Phona's life has taken her?

A) Married with children with a thriving hair salon in
Palmerston North?
B) Just got out of jail having finished a sentence for fraud?
C)Living in Washington with her husband who has an
Important Job that includes regular meetings with Obama?
D) Having retrained as a teacher is now living in Cambodia
working for Volunteer Services Abroad?

The correct answer would be, C.

My old childhood friend's husband gets more facetime with the
most powerful man in the world than our Prime Minister.

Sometimes life is so grand that I just want to pick it up
and give it a great big hug.

Ever wondered how to get rid of a couple of hundreds of thousands of dollars of vodka without throwing a party?

The Russians know how to.



At least, one Russian does.

Get off! Get off! Get off!

I have talked before about my paranoia of all things rodent-like (have you checked out the rat below?) Anyway, the guy in this YouTube clip feels about lizards pretty much the way I feel about rats.

Just because I can.

Yes, I admit, I have been hanging around at Awkward Family Photo again. Which is how I found this happy couple. Whaddaya reckon? They got a two-for-one deal and Great Auntie Nora is in the casket?