Sunday, August 8, 2010

An emotional post about my feelings

According to my dear old dad, pictures of my footwear, pets, and expensive figurines are not going to be of any interest to anyone anywhere ever. This, he believes, is the reason for my pathetically low number of followers. I tried telling him that I probably have millions of anonymous followers* but he seemed adamant that nobody except my grandparents, who really are bored shitless, would actually want to see that stuff.

In order to attract a wider audience, Dad suggested I use Oh Wow Dang to share the 'joys and sorrows of the world' with my readers. What he doesn't realise is that unfortunately, I'm just not that deep. These posts about the contents of my stomach/fridge, stray cats, and dishes - this is me, heart on sleeve, straight spillin' my guts.

*That's right secret stalkers, I know you're out there. How many of you saved that picture of my shoes to your desktop? How many of you sniffed your own shoe while you looked at the picture and imagined it was my foot odour you were smelling? Yeah, OK, so no-one did that, but I bet you're at least picturing me naked right now. I mean you probably weren't picturing me naked before, but now that I've said it you definetely are, right? Perverts.

Anyway, I'm still taking his advice on board, and so for today's post I present...


  • I sat in a spa in a Palmerston North motel unit and drank rum flavoured vodka from a cask.
  • I went to a Cambodian restaurant and everyone shared dishes, and my dish was some kind of deep-fried pork thing on a sizzling plate with a toffee-like plum sauce, and even though it was the best one no one else was really into it so I got to eat it nearly all to myself. 
  • I watched NZ's Next Top Model and spent the whole hour PMPOL (peeing my pants out loud) at the silly girls who said things like: "my greatest achievement so far is not getting pregnant or going to jail" in rangi accents like mine. [Although this was also kind of a 'sorrow' - particularly during the bits when they were in their bikinis and I sulked and felt bad about the whole pack of Mint Slice biscuits I'd just eaten.]
  • I sunk one ball during a game of pool. And if you think this belongs in the 'sorrows' section then you've obviously never seen me play pool.
  • I didn't get pregnant or go to jail. 

  • I sat in a spa in a Palmerston North motel unit and drank rum flavoured vodka from a cask.
  • After the spa, I went to a student bar that smelled strongly of sweat and vomit and sexual frustration. I realised here that I really hate the Macarena. 
  • I paid $7 for a terrible toasted sandwich in Taihape and then left my wallet at the cafe. 
  • I missed my boyfriend quite a bit. 'Ewwww gross' you're saying, right? I know. That's why I'm using the small font.  
  • I don't actually have a fifth sorrow, which means the joy to sorrow ratio for the week was 5:4. This is pretty amazing given the fact I spent five out of the last seven nights in Palmerston North.

Now to sit back and watch the followers roll in...

[UPDATE 10/08/10: Where are the followers and why are they not rolling in?]

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Text messages from my father

Dad: The monthly blog count is steadily declining. That's always a bad sign. Are you in love?

Me: Haha. Something like that.

Dad: You should write about it dear, it might help.

Me: As if. Gross!

Dad: But that's where you go wrong. If you started to, suddenly you would get millions of readers. Cos that's what people want. Fuck mogwai and dinky toys, they want the joys and sorrows of the world. Xx

Thanks Dad, duly noted.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

New proverbs by a witless twit

Am too busy and important to blog. Also unable to use full sentences. Have decided the time is right to start tweeting/become darling of Twitter community. Now coming up with life-changing proverbs to drop on twits. Ideas so far:

"Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and start telling everyone about the time you got so drunk on Kristov you fell asleep on the toilet at a party and woke up in a pool of your own urine with your pants down and the words "I LUV COCK" tattooed across your forehead."

"If at first you don't succeed, tell everyone that you failed deliberately because you'd never failed at anything before and you were challenging yourself to see if you actually could fail at something, so, technically, you succeeded in not succeeding which means you really did succeed after all."

"Never put off until tomorrow what you can put off forever, even if it means feeling really guilty about it for about six months and then just guilty enough for it to ruin your mood every now and then for the rest of your life."

"Revenge is sweet, and a dish best served cold, which makes me think that revenge is either a tiramisu or some kind of egg-based dessert. Possibly crème brûlée, although, I think that's served warmish... Wait, what exactly do they mean by cold? Does it have to come out of the fridge or can it just be like, not heated? Because if it's the latter then revenge could be cupcakes or bananas or that crêpe at the bottom of the stack which has cooled down by the time you eat it. Can we get a clearer definition? Because next time I'm served a cold/room temperature dessert then it'd be nice to know whether I'm eating a tasty treat or sinister metaphor for vengeance."

Have just discovered two earth-shattering pieces of information. One: tweets are limited to 140 characters, which means all above proverbs are too long. Two: apparently brevity is the soul of wit,  and since I don't have the confidence to deliver one-liners and prefer to ramble on within the secure confines of excessive punctuation, this means I can never be twitty witty on Twitter.

In conclusion, I will never send any tweets. If you'd like to follow me anyway (please do, I only have 12 followers which is terrible for my web cred), then add me:

Saturday, July 3, 2010


I ate Yum Cha (aka never-ending Chinese breakfast of doom) with my family this morning, and now I can't do anything except lie on the couch and wonder why we needed to say yes to eight different types of pork buns, why I needed to try them all, and why we do this every time and never learn a god damn thing.

It's classic Post Yum Cha Stress Disorder, and I'll probably get over it and eat something else in about 15 minutes, but right now I feel more pork bun than woman. I'm a wobun; sticky sweet sauce pumping through my veins, soft dough for flesh and marinated pork clinging to my bones. A dream catch to Parekura Horomia maybe (incidentally we ate Yum Cha at the same restaurant he racked up that bill), but not to anyone else.

TBH I'm actually vaguely hungry again after describing a wobun. What is wrong with me??

avandia recall