Kat. She goes home.

Ah yes, yet another woman leaving poor Danson. Do I have a sign on my forehead or something???

Bands I wish they’d stop playing on the radio

Exponents

This band only matters if you’re from New Zealand. Back in the 50s or something they made a couple of sing-along songs that were very popular. Now, everyone likes to play them at bars and parties and now they’re becoming a pain in the ass. Technically, they’re ok songs, but everywhere you go you hear them. It’s not enough that they get played whenever you go, now AirNZ has taken it upon themselves to play it on their adverts now too. Because I hate the song (now), I change the channel without even thinking about it. Shame on you AirNZ.

U2 (again)

The only thing I like about U2 songs is when Bozo tries to hit high notes. It sounds like someone is executing him slowly, cutting into him with a rusty spoon while he screams for mercy. It puts an unbecoming evil smile of content on my face. You know what Bozo? We’ve all been asking for years for you to shut up and stop writing boring songs and you ignored us, so if I see you getting beaten, I’ll watch with glee and ignore you right back.

I wish it were me inflicting the pain on him for all the pain he’s inflicted on me over the years, but I’m just as happy thinking someone else is doing it.

Don’t get me wrong. To say U2 weren’t a good band would be arrogant and totally wrong of me. Like most bands, they had a lifespan and inside that lifespan they wrote some great tracks. But like most bands, their songs after 500,000 times on the radio makes me start to wish someone had shot Bozo instead of Lennon, just to put him out of his misery. I’m sorry, but their life span has run out. It’s time to move on and find a new band; stop living in the past with a group of old fags that can’t seem to get their music past the early 90s. I asked a big U2 fan if in fact she DID learn how to dismantle an atomic bomb on their most recent album, but, of course, the answer was no. I hate them.

And dammit, does anyone care that Bozo has saved a few kids in Africa? He’s like some try-hard superhero. No-one cares, Bozo. Stop talking about it.

Songs from the Shrek movies

Because the movies were quite funny (and directed and written by a Kiwi, no less), it makes the soundtracks barely bearable. But without the movie to go with it, those songs truly suck. Stop playing them. Please.

Stop repeating the same songs over and over and start expanding your stupid collection of tunes. If I wanted to listen to Beyonce (oh my god, I spelt her name correct the first time. What’s wrong with me?) over and over, I’d go hang out with those losers from South Auckland. *sigh*

Keep playing

Old school Alanis. Jagged Little Pill is a great disc
Chillies. My example I use when discussing with people bands that have outstayed their welcome. The chillies are the only band from before the mid-90s I think still have a reason to be around.

That’s just my opinion, mind you.

As if on cue…

Pertaining to my posts about the Moon, I see that Japan has cancelled their mission to the moon on account of 10 years of delays. What was the mission, I hear you ask? Well, the mission was to send a probe to the moon. That’s it. A probe. 10 years of delays? Let’s put this into context.

The moon landing was in 1969 (apparently). A hypothetical scenario, if you will. If sending men to the moon was more difficult than sending a probe, which logically, it would have been, and if humans were using technology 45 years old, which they would have been, you would be forgiven for assuming they were delayed also. Let’s pull a time out of the hat. Let’s say, they were delayed, oh, um, 10 years? That would have meant the program would have started at the latest in 1959. Ok, so they started designing the project in 1959. Let’s fast forward to today, when we’re releasing a super-jumbo jet that can carry over 800 passengers (albeit 2 years delayed also), and are having trouble getting a spacecraft back into the atmosphere without killing the occupants. Now, in 2007, 48 years after we were told we went to the moon, we can’t get a probe there after 10 years of development. Sure, some countries have done it, but it’s no small feat. All I’m saying is a little bit of “thinking for yourself” can’t go amiss at some points in life, and don’t be afraid to tell other people what your two cents are. A good friend will discuss. A prick will say “you’re a conspiracy theorist”.

I’ve had enough of this topic. I’m going to get my mop cut.

Once again, it’s democracy time.

But first, an update on my French post. I had some French toast, and it was awesome. I thought, “hey you self righteous arrogant Kiwi, there WAS something else they got right!”, but then read on Wikipedia, French Toast was “called ‘German toast’ in the U.S.A. before World War I and was changed to ‘French toast’ because of anti-German sentiment.” Ha! How ironic they don’t get to claim it as their own. Anyway, one reader said my hatred of French was “so passé”, so next time I’m going to start on the Americans. That sounds like a much more fashionable country to vent one’s anger on.

Anyway, I was reading a magazine yesterday (as you do), and some guy wrote an article which started as thus:

“There are many things I don’t understand about this world. Like why women always choose the most inopportune moment to have a fight, why we still haven’t put another man on the moon; why every political scandal must have the word ‘gate’ tacked on the end of it; or why men who work in advertising agencies have such a devout love of black t-shirts and cargo pants.”

Ha! So true! But it did indeed remind me of a post I wrote previously about travelling to the moon. You may read it. It’s full of interesting questions you won’t be able to answer. Anyway, I’ve done my rant on that topic, but it raised another question that, for me, must be investigated. If someone who won’t believe something like going to the moon happened, they’re called (like so many have called me before) a conspiracy theorist. But what, indeed, is the opposite of a conspiracy theorist?

I guess it comes down to definitions. Not only the definition of the term “conspiracy theorist”, but the definition of the term “history”.

I’ve thought about the definition of history and where history itself comes from quite a bit in the past, and the best I can make out is that history is written by the man who had the most power at the time. Take Caesar for example. He had so much power that he could have written whatever he wanted to write in respect to history. Who was going to argue with him? And if someone did, who was going to listen? I guess this would be a more common scenario in dictatorships. Indeed, the only proof we have of the existence of Jesus is in one book (which, mind you, has been re-written how many times?). Who knows who commissioned its writing and why?

At the end of the day, for the most part, the history you know now is only history because a majority of people believed it to be so (a democracy of sorts?), and spread it to others. If enough people believe in one thing, it can easily cover up what actually happened. Ugh oh. I sense another conspiracy coming on.

Riddle me this. Are people who don’t believe in God conspiracy theorists? If not, why? Interestingly, are people who DO believe in God conspiracy therorists? Is it a numbers/percentage game? If 75% of people in the world believe something occurred, do all people who question that get called theorists? It’s interesting.

To put this into the context of this silly post, the only reason people who don’t believe we went to the moon are called conspiracy theorists is because so many people believe we did. In my view, there are two types of people who aren’t conspiracy theorists. One is the group of people who are too lazy to care, and the other group consist of people that do believe something happened. If the second group needs a name, I suggest “dumb pricks who believe anything Americans tell them”. Oh I do pity them.

Cirque. The only good thing to come from the French.

Last night I attended my second Cirque Du Soleil (which apparently stands for Circus of the Sun), and even though I’d seen one a couple of years previously and this one was hyped up beyond belief, it was still epic. The costumes were trippy but cool, the stage all abstract and the live music, as usual, outstanding and timed perfectly. I’m just glad the audience was bathed in darkness, otherwise people (if they’d taken the time to notice), would have seen that my mouth was dangling open in amazement and most probably drooling spittle because I’d forgotten to swallow. It’s a testament to the human body that when one is focused relentlessly on something that distracting, we can actually continue breathing. Paul said it was a pain in the ass how he kept forgetting to clap because he was too busy paying attention. That’s funny. And a standing ovation upon completion? That means it was pretty shit-hot.

Anyway, at times when the show got a little dull (dull being relative, of course), I started thinking about all those little Frenchmen and women bounding around on stage, and how, if I think really hard about it, Cirque is the only French thing I really care for. Of course, me being me, that’s a horribly arrogant thing to say, considering I’ve never been to France and I’m culturally ignorant. I’m sure there are SOME things from France that is useful but I can’t for the life of me remember what they are. Renault, Peugeot and Citroen are certainly nothing to write home about. To be fair, it’s mostly the French people I meet that need a complete personality overhaul which where my dislike for the country comes from. And the people that visit France with bad experiences also.

For instance, one French guy I know lived with some very good friends of mine. He’s a nice enough guy, but man does he think he’s superior. Forget listening to reason, if you question him or anything he does, it’s open season and he’ll fight you to the death. One day I overheard his flatmates talking about how he hit a couple of cars when parking his car:

“I’m sorry, what?”
“Yeah, when he went to park his car, he kept hitting the cars in front and behind him to get into the spot.”
“Is that so, Jacques?”
“Yeah, the spot wasn’t big enough for my car.”
“Well, don’t park there then. Doesn’t that make sense?”
“Bah, it doesn’t hurt the cars.”
“I can tell you for free, if I saw you doing that to my car I’ll pull you out of yours and knock you into next week.”

That’s the kind of arrogant shit I’ve come to expect from the French. Don’t think it’s only him that I’m gauging my distaste on; I’ve met a lot of Frenchies and I’ll be damned if all of them don’t rub me up the wrong way. Jacques isn’t a bad guy, he was just unfortunately brought up in the wrong country. Anyway, his car was new a few weeks ago but now it looks like 007 rolled it on the highway (no, I lie. It never looked like an Aston).

Anyway, there is one French girl that I like, and I can’t help but think that she feels like she’s stuck in the wrong country. Maybe I’ll see her when I visit Europe. But even though I’ve always had the inclination to visit the City of Love, it’ll forever be overshadowed by the hypocritical French attitude of being happy to take the tourist’s dollars but give nothing in return but a scowl and a middle finger.

Watch yourself. England thinks you’re trying to steal its culture.

I’m moving to London. A few of my friends live there, a lot more live throughout Europe and I’m sick of New Zealand. It’s time to move, and what better place than the exact opposite location on the globe? New Zealand is full of bad connotations: places I used to work, places I used to study, places where my girlfriends came from, I can’t get away from them. To be fair, the last 20 years of my 25 alive have been spent in this city, so it’s understandable I’d rather be dragged behind a car to get out of here than stay another year. I’m tired of it.

Anyway, it’s finally happening. I’ve got some cash, got a place to stay, got a job or two that may work out for me so the last thing I need is a Visa. I’m not going for one of these Working Holiday ones (1 year in Europe, but you can only work 6 months). I’m going for the whole 9 yards* and getting a Highly Skilled Migrant Visa, which gives me two years there with the option of staying another three if I get some kind of employment sponsorship. It’s pretty serious, and if I stay 5 years I can become a citizen. I understand it’s not something they want to give away but the application seems to be unnecessarily strict.

An application will cost 330 pounds. That equates to around $1000NZ dollars, and for that you get to send of an application that has almost been denied before it arrives. Let me explain. The application is 15 pages long but the supporting document that explains what the application does is 32. After reading that, it’s clear if you spell your name incorrectly or use pens that don’t have exactly the same ink, it’ll get denied. In all seriousness, if you forget to include a document or leave something unclear, they don’t ask you for it or for clarification, they deny the application. Want to apply again? 330 pounds.

That’s not the worst of it. In the points system, I have to have a degree, and thus need to prove I got the degree, which is fair enough. What was a pain in the ass was having to prove the degree was taught in English. It’s not enough that I come from a country that only speaks English, and got my degree from a University in that country, I actually had to drive into the University and request a letter that said: “the degree I achieved was taught in English”. The application said if I didn’t include that letter, don’t bother applying. They’d deny me outright.

I couldn’t figure it out. By the time I’d finished my application, I’d included every pay-slip for a year, every bank statement for a year, a letter from my boss showing I’d been employed there for a year, a birth certificate, my degree certificate, the letter proving I’d done my degree in English and the 15 page application. Why is it so hard? It’s not as though everyone is going to England to dilute their culture or anything. I mean, honestly, are they that high in demand for people coming from overseas? I’m going because of the Pound and because my friends are there. I could just as easily go to Amsterdam which is a 50 quid flight away where I’ve also got lots of friends, earn lots of Euros in a city that actually has class and history. London is full of (apart from New Zealanders, Australians and South Africans) ugly chubby English girls with bad teeth and even worse grammar and pronunciation skills. They think being loud and getting shit-faced is what drives a man crazy. Having another Kiwi can only improve the melting pot.

Oh well, I’ll see when I get my application back. If they deny me, fuck them. I’ll go to Amsterdam. The Dutch speak better English than the people who invented the Language. Wish me luck.

*The Whole 9 Yards" is a reference to Football, (American) where the Offence has to move Ten yards to continue their chance to get a goal, and if they get all 9, they can punt it/get the last yard. Very rare for a team to go 9 yards in one go. Thus "Go the Whole 9 Yards" means "Do Your Best Work Yet"

The very late night show with Letterman's stupid co-host

So, if you've seen the Late Night Show, you would have noticed that every time Dave (we're on a first name basis, you see) says anything, funny or not, his stupid co-host and keyboard playing idiot takes it as a cue to say something, or even more often, play some stupid tune. I don't know about you, but I can't stand the guy.

Paul, his name is, and man does he piss me off. Tonight Dave (we go way back) was talkin' about that dude with huge knackers called Wesley Autrey in The Big Apple who saved a 20-year-old guy who had a seizure and fell onto the tracks by jumping on top of him. Great story, and that guy is 100 times the man I'll ever be. I don't know if I could do that. Anyway, everytime Dave stopped for a breath, "Paul" muttered something completely useless because, well, I don't know why. Maybe he thinks he's adding to the show? Who knows.

D: "So, tonight on the show we have..."
P: "Uh-huh..."
D: "the hero Wesley Autrey who saved the boy in the subway..."
P: "Right..."
D: "if you remember the sto..."
P: "Oh yeah, man, wooooo, wow, great *plays some tunes*"

Argh. His music. His incessant music playing is a pain in the ass. Every time Dave cracks a joke (which is every 1.3 sentences on average), Paul and his try-hard band play some music as if somehow Dave by himself isn't enough to carry the show.

Anyway, dammit, shut up for a few minutes and let the man talk. It's his show, not the Late Night Show with Dave and Paul, and he hasn't invited you to join the show's name for a reason.

Sorry, it's late and I'm in a bad mood. I'll stop now.

Mt. Eden Apt..

...fight club...mt eden 715/b...one two three four five six seven..i'm sure you remember at on your fight club night..and now that we are here in Chicago we miss those nights really a lot..mt.eden road...really a lot of memories..the one I like most..the mice and flees...a nicepresent form the people above...agh agh...my farewell party...lele..on the couch trying to make out with the colombian girl.....my favourite dj...a wonderful friend...jonathan that try to touch Kat'ass....new zealand...that with you ...partner in crime...with out u dear dan woudn't be the same...we want you so what are you waiting to come here and joying a salsa..ops fight club with us?

viva mt. eden!! we miss you lovely people! I miss tea together and runs to the veggie store. chicago is just so dry and warm inside. what is one to do but invite everyone to move here! i say we rotate every year to a new country and this year, this is it. so jump on the bandwagon and come on over! maybe around say february???????We love you DAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fabio says:

Stupid friends from Europe. All come over here, be nice to me and then leave. So far this week I’ve see three of them going and there are more on the list. On the bright side, I’ll never be alone when I go to Europe.

The worst of these departures happened to be someone I consider a best friend now.

But first, some background to her flat which is quite important. Where she stays (until tomorrow when she leaves) is a small flat just outside of Auckland central that has actually been passed down through friends and workmates starting with a couple of ladies who worked with me a year ago. Inge (Dutch) and Liina (Estonian) first snapped up the apartment who passed it onto other kids (all who I am fond of and am friends with) like Hugo (Dutch), Linda (Norwegian), Al and Jess (Italian and American respectively) and now Katrina (German), Jacques (French) and Rosario (from the Philippines). I think if I group them by arrival and departure times I can count 3 generations of people living in the flat and I’ve been good friends with all of them. I jest occasionally that I’ve lived there longer than all of the current flatmates and I’m somewhat of a squatter, but I don’t think they care.

Anyway, so just before Hugo was leaving to go to Fiji we had a party and I got to meet the new flatmate taking his room. After drinking a sufficient amount of beer to calm the nerves, I got to talking to her. She was a cutie and a sweetheart (I’m good at spotting these) and was kinda surprised when Al and Jess and Kat invited me to go along and check out some salsa class. For the duration of this post I won’t use the term “Salsa” because it’s geeky and people will laugh, so we’ll call it “Fight Club”. That sounds much cooler and because the first and second rules of Fight Club is that you can’t talk about it, no-one really finds out what it really stands for. Anyway, the kids invited me to Fight Club one night and ever since (especially after Al and Jess made their way to Chicago) Kat and I have been really good mates.

Long story short, K and I have been to Fight Club together (along with Jess (different Jess) and Patrick) for about 6 months now and have been pretty close. I’ve tried to ignore the fact she is leaving but it’s snuck up on me now and last weekend we spent a lot of time together. Thursday was a bar crawl around the waterfront (just the two of us but lots of fun), Friday I made her (and Jacques) dinner and afterwards Fight Club at a popular waterfront bar and Fight Club again on Sunday night. Last night (Monday) she had a going away party and that will be the last I see of her for some time I think.

Wow, that really is a boring post. Maybe I’ll stop posting about women and go back to general rants. It’ll be better for all of us. Some of you other people, write some posts dammit! Take care K.

not boring

so I have to write something in place of some more interesting post once I have something interesting to tell..... preferrably a story that goes somewhere, but I'm not too good at that yet. Oh well, we will see.
cheers.