Weblog of Lois and Dougie - the daily musings of a lady and her cat

I don't often choose to write about myself and my life except in the concept of wrtiting about issues, but today I will make an exception.

I have just had a lovely birthday shared with my family and freinds, which featured, amongst other things, 'Happy Birthday' sung to me in 5 different languages (English, German, Korean, Russian and Hungarian), and an amazing dinner at one of the Hilton's restaurants - lemon sorbet between courses, petit fours to finish etc.  My kind of special day! 

Being Easter, quite a few friends couldn't make it, but the ones who did made it truly special.  There was a bit of a spooky moment, however, when a new friend in my life happily told the assembled guests (including my mother) that she thinks I am beautiful and is falling in love with me!  I took that with a grain of salt, as she added quickly afterwards that "it's OK, I am married".  A little later, with the help of some music she put on herself, she began to dance for me (whilst I provided a captive audience by being in the spa), at times her movements were rather suggestive, and I felt like I was being given a lapdance.

Interestingly, for me, I do find the lady concerned rather attractive, so if I were in the market for a lesbian adventure, I would be very tempted.  But what's funny to me was that she seemed to think her being married would preclude any such adventure.  Well, probably any lesbian could tell you plenty of married chicks find themselves having such adventures, in fact, a significant number of lesbians have been married, before realising they could bat for the other team!

Ten years ago I probably would have tried to see where this could go, even if it were just a bit of fun, but I think nowadays I might just stick with fantasy and friendships.  But hey, watch this space!

It's my birthday today!

In preparation for this momentous entry into middle age, I have been practising useful phrases such as "In my day.."  and "Young people these days...." 

All I need now is a purple hat to go with my red dress (which incidentally, suits me very well).

 

My sister used to own a pianola.  It was great fun for parties, as anyone could play it - it was only a matter of rhythmically pumping the pedals.  It had come with a number of pianola rolls, including such gems as 'The Willam Tell Overture' and 'Bad, Bad Leroy Brown'.  But by far the alltime favourite was 'I'm going back again to Yarrawonga'.

Yarrawonga is a town in Australia, which conveniently also rhymes with 'linger longer'.  It also happens to be where a tennis tournament is taking place at the moment.  A young NZ player (originally from Croatia), Marina Erakovic, has done particularly well there, winning her singles final.  She is the great new hope of New Zealand tennis.  Let's just hope she doesn't suffer an injury and retire without any more titles, only to grow old to the lament "Well, at least I'll always have Yarrawonga"!

 

 

It is unlikely that in any democratic political system it would be seem as desireable for a member of parliament to belong to two parties.  There is a law in this country, against changing party allegiance whilst a member of parliament.  This makes sense, as voters liek to know that they have voted for an individual as well as a party, that shares their ideaology and will represent them.  In New Zealand, a combination of maori and english words is used to refer to this - 'waka- jumping' (a waka is a traditional maori canoe).

A former Auckland mayor has decided he should perform a somewhat more impressive manouvre, which I will call 'straddling two wakas'.  John Banks, a bombastic arrogant, former National MP, believes he should stand for another conservative party 'ACT', while still a member of the National party.  Furthermore, he insists he should stand in a consitiuency that already has a member of ACT ready to stand.  How would voters know which party and party's views Mr Banks would represent?

Funnily enough, many New Zealanders already know the answer.  Mr Banks represents himself.  His loss in the last mayoral election owed much to his unwillingness to listen to anyone's voice but his own.  He was so inept in this regard, that for a while the best evening entertainment in downtown Auckland was at council meetings, where Mr Banks was happy to eject members of the public if he not like what they said, represented, or even more.

ACT may be struggling to gain and keep voters, but Mr Banks continues to delude himself if he thinks he could represent anyone, especially members of the public (i.e. voters) rather than himself.

 

I was sad recently that my lovely neighbours moved out, and interested to see who was moving in.  I managed to make myself popular with them quickly.  I had decided I had been drinking too much lately and, having almost a 12-pack of beers sitting round the house, took them over and gave them as a welcoming present.

Last weekend, my neighbours had a party.  They invited me, but I was busy watching the rugby, and said I might go over later.  I didn't, and just as I was settling into bed (and the party, or at least the music), was still raging on, then there was a knock on the door.  Two guys invited me over to the party, and again I declined. 

I quickly dicided after that to go over.  After all, the music wasn't about to stop (although it wasn't too disturbing) and I thought I may as well try to get to know them better, since I'd had my reservations about them.  Though all and sundry had been drinking, and I hadn't, it mostly felt OK to be there.  Until some other neighbours were invited over too.

These neighbours were teenagers (I supposed), who swung from mature to juvenile behaviour from one moment to next.  Mostly they were OK, but when they appeared to be getting a bit hot under the collar with each other, to the point of looking like they were on the verge of taking a swing at each other, I took the opportunity to literally jump the fence and go home.

Yesterday I was sick.  I was therefore not in the mood to be subjected to loud music at 8.30 in the morning, and after some investigation, discovered my teen nieghbours had their door open whilst playing their music.  The music itself was not too bad, and who am I to question anyone's taste anyway.  But I did go over and ask them to close the door.  They did, slamming it in my face, and yelling after me, "F**k you!".  Not pretty.

Talking to my (party-holding) neighbours today, I understand what these youngsters are about a bit better.  We had thought they were around 18, but in fact they were all 14!  No wonder they couldn't hold their drink!  They were kind enough to roll a few joints, and perhaps we should think ourselves lucky they smoked them too - at least marijuana tends to calm people.

I suppose it is easy for me to forget my own teens.  Certainly I didn't drink much, and I didn't know what a joint was!  Ah, such a sweet innocent youth spent at a gentile Anglican girls' school.  I'll try to be forgiving of 'the young ones' but will find it easier to do so if they stop swearing in my face :lol:!

 

 

I wonder how many readers have heard of 'post restante'.  The first time I travelled overseas, the only way to keep in touch with friends and family (apart from making a telephone call) was to tell them when you thought you would be in a particular town or city, and get them to write to you care of 'post restante' at the post office.  You would go to the post office, passport in hand, and ask the staff to check if there was any mail for you.  Oh, the joy  if there was! 

Now of course, there is wonderful email.  A great way to keep in touch and even in far-flung locations, as long as backpackers have discovered them, someone enterprising will try to set up a connection for the Internet, if not an internet cafe.

In business, e-commerce can be a double-edged sword.  The company I work for have just begun taking bookings from customers via a website.  The customers have jumped on board this ship like there's no tomorrow, especially since we have aparently committed ourselves to processing the booking within 15mins of it being sent.  Who was the plonker who came up with that idea???  I arrived to find bookings in my intray and I could still be at work now if I wanted to be.  If there's one thing I have learnt over the years in customer service is don't make promises you can't keep.

Not only is it unwise to commit to a timeframe of reponding to electronic communication, you don't even need to make the suggestion, as we're all under the impression that electronic communication ensures a fast response.  A friend of mine and I joke together about this - "didn't you get my text?", or 'but I sent you an email..." people say.  Yes, says my friend, and I'll get to it after I've waded through the 75 other emails I have to deal with ! lol!

Maybe I could start a new business and base my communications on 'post restante'.  At least I would only have to deal with written communication should I choose to go to the post office.

The latest barmy idea to come out of our government is to invite skilled New Zealanders living overseas to come back to live here.  The idea itself isn't barmy, but the minister concerned believes ex-pats will be interested incoming back for 'the lifestyle'.  Well I came back 3 years ago (having put myself through university overseas) and I am not sure what he is talking about.

Wages in NZ are horrendously low, even when exchange rates are taken into account.  The cost of living is not low, and a number of benefits that con be enjoyed in some countries (e.g. free education in Denmark, free doctor's visit in the UK) are not available here, pushing living costs up further. 

What kind of lifestyle can one have, when one is not earning enough money?  I believe this is one government campaign doomed to fail.

Currently, a number of papers are awash with comments on the off-field behaviour of sportspeople.  Recently, an All Black (national representative in NZ rugby) had his name suppressed by a court after a minor (according to the judge) incidence of pushing and shoving with his wife.  The latest 'scandal' features a NZ cricket player, who may or may not have ended up filmed in a video while having sex with one or more ladies. 

This hardly seems a crime to me.  But stars of the sporting world do live in a different world.  There is a rugby player writing in one weekly player who once commented, "I'm probably more likely to score off the field in South Africa before I score on it" (referring to an upcoming rugby tour.  This individual seems determined to locate himself in the public consciousness as a 'bit of a lad'.  Indeed, he boasted a couple of weeks ago that All Blacks can have 'the choice of any girl in the Float bar (a fashionable bar in Auckland)' and received some hostile responses from women readers.  I personally was more aggrieved that he said in the same column that he was one of the two best second-five eighths (a rugby position) in New Zealand.  But I'll put that aside.

What the gentleman alluded to was the phenomonen of groupies.  In the entertainment industry, we used to refer to such people as 'starf**kers'.  There will always be people (almost always women) who can't resist a sexual encounter with a notable sportsman, and there will always be guys like our man at second five-eighths, who will take advantage of this.  But I really can't see much to get hot under the collar about. 

The cricket player concerned is in a relationship.  And so are lots of guys his age in NZ.  To some people, being unfaithful is despicable, but I can't see that it will necessarily impact on a sportperson's peformance.  What we have to remember is our sporting heroes have spent far too much of their lives working hard to reach the top of their sport to have only done so for some enhanced sexual opportunities.  If they are heroes it is because we, the public, make them.  If they fall off their pedastals, maybe we should just stop putting them up there in the first place.

One time I got my class of Italian teenagers to invent and write publicity for a new invention.  Each group brainstormed a new invention, and a couple of these were quite inspired.  One group invented a pair of sunglasses which, when you put them on and wore them, made you feel like you were on holiday.  Another group invented a pair of trainers that would lace themselves up at the press of a button.

I have come up with a new invention of my own.  I want to invent a telephone that has a breathalyser in it.  It would work like this - the caller would pick up the phone to dial.  If too much alcohol was detected in the breath (and this could be calibrated for each user to take into account the amount they could consume before embarking on unwise behaviour), the phone would not work.  Mobile phone could operate similarly, and also disable the text mechanism for the same reason.

This came into my mind after a friend who is european related a tale in which she made a late night phone call to her parents.  Her father kept suggesting she went to bed.  This was because, she sheeepishly admitted, he could tell she was a little drunk.  I myself have done the very same thing - it is easy to do this if you long for contact with friends and family and happen to have some who live in a different time zone.

Not only would my 'breathaphone' stop the likes of me and my friend from making these calls (and occasionally having a poor recollection of what was actually said), it could also prevent unwise declarations of love, hostile rejections - maybe even sportspeople (David Beckham, Shane Warne ?) from making plonkers of themselves. 

 

Local telephone service provider Telecom intend to launch a range of phones for landlines from  which o ne can send text messages.  This is great news for deaf people.  Dougie and I, however, might give this one a miss.

Being a 30-something lady, I am not of the generation reared on text as a means of conversation.  I like text - it is handy for getting a quick message to someone, especially messages like "on my way, just parking the car".  Since my talent for punctuality could be rated in the negative numbers, I have to make such apologies often.  I even have templates on my phone for the purpose.  Mind you, I am not as bad as one friend, whose record is so bad, I once said this of her (to another friend), "X knows the word on, and the word time, but she seems to have trouble putting them together..."

What I am not so enamoured with, in regard to text, is when people use it as a substitute so speaking.  Granted, one cannot see the body language of the speaker during a telephone conversation, but there is the opportunity to read the emotion of the speaker.  Imagine I phone a friend and say, "How are you?".  My friend could respond, "I'm fine". but this could be said in a manner that conveys anything from genuine contentment to unhappiness.  This is why writers often use adverbs and phrases when writing dialogue.  "I'm fine", replied Jemima, wistfully/ with a wistful note in her voice.   There may be a big difference in the meaning understood by the listener vs the text receipient.

So talk to me.  Call me and let me hear your voice.  You know I love it! (she said, with only a soucon of sarcasm).

 

What a contented lot Blogigo readers are!  When I asked for comments on anything so annoying to you it should be consigned to (Orwell's) Room 101, there was not a single comment!  Well, I 've thought of something.  Irish dancing.  All that mad flapping and taping with the feet but with arms stuck at the sides like a penguin.  Couple that with annoying music and I would happily rather spend an evening out in a  (working ) mortuary.

The main exponent of this dance form, Michael Flatley, is in the Guiness book of records for recording the recod number of times anyone can tap their feet on the floor.  And some people pooh-poohs records for the most burgers a person can consume in a minute/the world's longest snadwich etc.

And to deal with that other kind of hair. 

An acquaintance of mine, who I met through a running group, has unusually smooth-looking legs.  Speculation raged among female admirers at running to whether he shaved or waxed his legs.  In the end, I had the courage to ask.  It turned out he shaves them.  Say what?  Perhaps it is because he used to be a sprinter in his native country - less drag?  Or could it be more drag, enjoyed in his spare time...

I feel as though there is more and more pressure for both men and women to wage war on their bodies over body hair.  For women, the pressure has been on them some time, but at a shop they other day I noticed another man, also a polynesian gentleman like my acquaintance, who had plenty of hair on his arms but smooth hair-free legs.  I like some body hair.  Yes, some can look unsightly, I am as careful to ensure there is no appearance of spiders crawling out of my bikini pants as the next chick.  But some hair, is to my mind, no more of a concern than beards or moustaches.

When I travelled with a german friend once, she had soft downy hair under her arms.  At first I was shocked but later came to like it.  In fact, I grew my own.  Contrary to what I expected, some men really liked it.  (not Clark though - it didn't go down well in the States).  They found it sensual, and so did I.  I am even thinking of growing mine again this winter. 

It takes courage to staand out from a crowd in any way, but I might just have to bite the bullet on this one.  As for pubic hair 'grooming'...  I have been astonished at times in dating to have men raise this subject with me.  The best response to this scenario I have heard came on a US dating show hosted by Greg Proops.  He said, "Get invited there first buddy, then start making suggestions".

Thankyou, Greg.

 

Reactions in the media to the visit of Prince Charles, heir to the British throne, to Australia and New Zealand, varied yesterday.  The Sunday Star-Times reported his interactions with the public, while the Herald On Sunday's front page screamed "$50,000 dollars a day - the princely sum you're paying for Charls' NZ visit".

Like many here in NZ, I think of the (British) Royal Family as somewhat irrelevant.  I could happily live in a republic.  For me, they do not represent value for money as, unlike Britain, NZ does not attract tourists on the basis of their presence.  The Prince has a fortune due to his birthright.  Paris Hilton has a fortuner too, but I don't have to pay for her to visit NZ or any other country.

A  debate also continues as to whether Prince  Charles, head of the Church of England, should be allowed to marry his former mistress, fellow divorcee, Camilla Parker-Bowles.  I think he should marry whoever he wants, but not if he wishes to be the head of the church.  Like his ancester Edward VII, he should feel free to abdicate and live as anyone else can.  If members of this royal family live the way they do courtesy of taxpayers, surely they are not the same as you and I.  In a sense they are owned buy their subjects, and as such should expect their role to be defined by those who pay them, just as my employer defines mine.

Although I once met Prince Charles, and his wife, the (late) Princess of Wales, and fond them charming, I do believe their significance to countries like this one has diminished considerably.  If members of the British royal family wish to visit New Zealand, they can pay for it themselves.

It is interesting that across the ditch, the visit of crown Prince Frederick of Denmark and his wife Mary, is going down very well indeed.  Mary was born in Australia, and as she and her husband are young and reasonbaly good-looking, they live up to the charming princess and beautiful princess tradition of fairy tales reasonably well.  Charles meanwhile, is not even as handsome as that other pension-age prince, Rainier of Monaco, so he doesn't even have much value for the tabloids and women's magazines.  In this day and age when we are all more subject to market morces than ever, let the market decide the value of Prince Charles and we can deal with him accordingly!

 

A funny thing happened on the way to  the Internet cafe.  A man stopped me in the street to ask me a question.  He said, " Funny question this, do you have any kids?".  I told him no.  He said, "Do you have a partner?" and I also replied no.  But I was so taken aback I then walked off.

Could he have been after a date?  He wasn't a bad-looking guy at all.  Maybe he was the man of my dreams!  Now I will never know. :-(

Will just have to tell myself little stories like he actually has loads of characteristics I would dislike etc.  :-)

When did hair become taboo?  Not just body hair, but hair on the head too.  I remember in England it became popular amongst men of a certain age to have very, very short hair.  In hairdresser parlance, they would ask for a 'No. 1' or 'No 2' haircut.  Apparently the idea was to try to lessen the appearance of receding hair.  Unfortunately, the effect for many english guys, was to give them what I called 'devil horns', which only drew attention to the hairline even more.

More recently, there has been a trend of shaving the head completely.  I am in two minds about this one.  Or rather, there is a bit of a racial divide for me.  Brown guys are generally suited to this look - it makes some of them look like athletes.  White guys, however, tend to either look like overgrown babies, or skinheads.  Some colleagues of mine years ago all decided at once to do the shaved head thing.  The ones who didn't look like babies encountered a reaction they found curious - people seemed to expect them to be aggressive.

Although I am as pleased as any chick that the 'pudding bowl' do (i.e. bald pate, normal length crown of hair from ear to ear via the neck), and the 'combover', have pretty much died a death, I do think guys should think as hard about whether a haircut or shaving suits their face.   But hey, perhaps I should be more forgiving - I didn't think too hard as a teenager when I wanted a hairdo like Farrah Fawcett-Majors.  But these guys are not teenagers!