Monthly Archives of: March 2011


Here are some THINGS!

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Here is Kelly getting married!

And here is the beach…

Here’s Karori Cemetery…

And a Sunday…

And another Sunday…

And another….

And here is a Lucas:

And now that I’ve exhausted everything I can realistically be bothered doing with Instagram, I shall leave you to go about your regular internet business. WHATEVER THAT MAY BE.


Where were we?


I finally woke up in time to catch the early bus this morning. I say finally because I’ve been trying to get to work before nine (or go to the gym before work) for at least a month, and it hasn’t happened once. My plans are rarely my reality. My REALITY mostly involves snoozing my alarm a lot, with a side of snuggly kitty and dicking around with my hair.

So I left the house in time for the 8:09 bus. I was very proud. Only it’s actually an 8:07 bus, and I missed it by inches. It was a nice morning and I couldn’t be bothered going back the way I came to catch the Aro bus, so I decided to walk over to Kelburn.

Ten minutes later, I trotted up to the Kelburn shops and jumped on the first bus to pull up, assuming that all buses heading down the hill head down it via The Terrace. But no! I’d caught the only bus IN HISTORY that goes down Ghuznee St. By the time I got off it, I was CLOSER TO MY HOUSE than I was when I started, and I’d wasted half an hour.


I arrived at work at exactly the time I always do, but pissed off and soaked to the bone. Lesson learned, universe.

(Also, since I ended up having to walk anyway, I stopped at the supermarket on the way – where I realised, as I got to the counter, that I had to transfer money in order to pay for my food. And then my phone had no service. This morning was AMAZING.)


Last night this happened:

Jef: Would you dress up as Barbarella and let me film you talking about CSS?
Emily: Yes. Yes I would.


A couple of weeks ago Em, Keith, Jef and I went to Logan Brown for Jef’s 30th. It was my first time there, and it BLEW MY MIND. The food was incredible. We savoured each course, washing delectable taste sensations down with liberal amounts of fine wine, and it was almost 11 before we stumbled out onto Cuba to find cabs home.

Down the street, we passed a cocktail lounge none of us had noticed before. The floor was made of coloured glass that lit up in patterns with the 80s music flowing out the door. “THE FLOOR IS FLASHING!” Jef exclaimed, delighted. “CAN WE GO IN?”

We went in. We were a little tipsy, our stomachs full and our eyes sleepy. We ordered a round of cocktails and took a table. A song from Rocky Horror kicked in, and Emily started to laugh. We looked around.

Yes. We were in a gay bar.

And, you guys, it was GREAT.

We were there until almost 2am on a school night, drinking cocktails and watching people dance like they meant it. I’ve never seen bar patrons having SO MUCH FUN. Emily had a dance-off with someone who challenged Keith’s honour. Jeffrey exhausted his repertoire of show tunes, and then we had a fight about feminism.

I think we need to start going to gay bars on purpose.


Saturday night was Bec and Clint’s engagement party. As a bridesmaid, I did a speech. And then I did some of this:



This got aborted right before any good bits.

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I’m really failing to get this whole blog-work-live-write balance thing down. I’ve been sick for a week and attempting to ignore it – tomorrow, the gloves come off. My immune system can hop on the train or get off the tracks, because I’m done molly-coddling its lazy ass. Next time we speak, I will either be cured or dead.

It’s been a weird week. I thought, for a while, that I’d forgotten how to walk properly. I kept thinking about HOW TO WALK while walking, and fucking it up. Eventually I realised that my shoes were just too big, but it took several days of secretly fretting over an imaginary degenerative disease and/or brain tumour.

(And a lot of comical duck-stepping and tripping over things.)

Walking, like chewing and typing and being awesome, is screwed up by effort.

Maybe it’s a March thing – this week last year I was blogging about breaking stuff and pouring coffee on my cereal. (My life remains a thrill-ride.)

Crap. Someone just gave me a paper hat and a beer. The live and work parts of the great pyramid have sensed my attention was briefly elsewhere, and conspired to rope me back in. TTFN, friends who live in the internet. TTFN.


#101. Wow.

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As advertised, Jeffrey’s account of our shooting adventure. Although cold and devoid of FEELINGS, it’s still pretty funny. You know. It’s OKAY, I GUESS.


I have a nemesis at work. This morning he/she/it came to see me about some web content I’m writing for him/her/it.

Nemesis: Thanks for re-writing the copy I gave you, even if your information was basically the same as mine!

Oh, little nemesis. That would be my JOB. You supply the facts, and I make them coherent English. If I’ve changed your information, I’m doing it wrong.

[Note: by thanks, Nemesis did not mean thanks. It’s fun having a nemesis!]


From: Katie Johnston
To: Will Johnston
Subject: Fwd: Reservation Details for Booking Ref. 8673674

Here’s my bus details for tomorrow. Chur bro.

Sent from my iPhone.

From: Will Johnston
To: Katie Johnston

how r u getting from airport to sky city????? Meow.

Sent from my shithouse work computer.

From: Katie Johnston
To: Will Johnston

I’m on my way to auck now.

Sent from I’m so much better than you right now

From: Will Johnston
To: Katie Johnston

Go fuck yourself.

Sent from your face.


I should write something about the earthquake, but I don’t have any words. I wrote about the last quake and about how lucky we got. This time, the scale of the devastation isn’t even comprehensible. I wouldn’t know how to say anything that meant anything.

So I’ll say nothing: in 6 minutes, it will have been one week since the quake. In 6 minutes, the people who work in my building are gathering in our conference room to join the rest of the country in two minutes silence. Websites are going down. Call centres are closing. Stuff says there’s 5000 people gathered on the lawn at parliament.

154 people have been confirmed dead so far, and the worst injury in my family was a broken toe. My mother was in Christchurch at the time, and had intended to take my nana into the city that day. Emily was meant to be doing a pitch in Christchurch.

We got so lucky, but so many people didn’t. I know people who know people who lost their lives or haven’t been found. I know someone whose brother had three people die in his arms. It’s unbelievable that this happened here, in my country, to people I love. I can’t get my head around it. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be in Christchurch right now.

Time to be quiet. I hope you will be too.