Life at Bullet Point

• My black swimming cap ripped today so after my swim I crossed over the road from the pool and bought a new one in the Swim Shop. My new cap is red. I can’t tell you how happy it’s made me all afternoon. I’m not really a things person - I think everyone who goes on and on about how their ipod has changed their life needs a good shaking – but every now and then I buy something so cool I want to lick it. Don’t try licking your new swim cap though. It has powder on it which must be similar to what evil tastes like.

• So I’m pretty sure that I didn’t get the chocolate bar advert, but as I said, it’s a lottery. However, I did go to another audition on Tuesday - this time for a liquorice commercial (I’m the Confectionery Kid!). The part was for the son of a knight, so I had to wear a heavy helmet thingy and eat lots of liquorice. They kept asking me to smile and I can only imagine the delicious sight by the third take, with all the black gunk in between my teeth.

• I’ve finished the first draft of the first Act of the book – all eight chapters. Now things start getting really interesting plot wise, but first I have to do some research and fact checking. I’ve realised you can’t just say “that shiny bit on a motorcycle” - you actually have to read about motorcycles and find out what its called. Google is only so much help and I’m going to be hitting the library hard over the next week. Included on my list are: How do you survey / what is surveying? How to build a tree house without killing the tree?

• I had the worse hangover of my life yesterday. It was horrid. The night before my Ma & I had gone to an exhibition opening at an Art Gallery. The exhibition was called Manscapes and the paintings were the sort of soft porn you often find hanging in the hallway of a house owned by gay men of a certain age. I thought I might meet the Wellington ‘A Gay’ crowd (I know they exist, goddammit) but unfortunately it was just regular gays. I did get asked to pose for the artist though, to which I replied confidently that I could suck in my stomach for a full twenty eight minutes, if that was long enough. It must have been because I was invited back to the after-party (Ma went home because she had work the next day) but by the time I arrived I was pretty drunk on free wine. Inside the party there was music and more drinking. The crowd was either gay or related to the artist (he was a Greek New Zealander). I had lots of conversations with his cousins along the lines of “I used to hate gays until I discovered I was related to one” and I drank lots more. A girl I’d become chummy with said she’d organised a taxi and when it arrived it turned out to be a relative of the artist (yes, Wellington is that small). We were driving away when the taxi driver started to talk in Greek to someone on his mobile phone.

“They want to talk to you,” he said, passing me the phone.

“Hello?” I said.

It’s then that the swearing started. I was too far gone to understand everything, but the gist of it was that one of the cousins thought that I’d stolen something (What? A painting?) and that he’d instructed his cousin to turn the taxi round and drive back to the party where I would be “dealt with”. Now, my family jokes that I am the most honest person in the world. Today I found $5 floating in the pool and I handed it in. Sitting here I feel indignant, but at the time I was just plain scared. I tried to explain to the taxi driver that I hadn’t taken anything.

“Don’t worry, they’re drunk,” he said.

“Do you want to search me?” I offered, not knowing if I should believe him.

“I’ll tell them I did, but didn’t find anything.”

And with that he dropped me off at my house. Weird huh?

• I was joking the other day that New Zealand has some pretty lame newspaper front covers on the Dailies. If it’s not a picture of two blonde children happily turning over shells on some beach, it’s something like this. (Actually, this story has a sad ending because what wasn’t reported is that the woman has mental disabilities and the baby has been taken off her). But my friend Amy, who came down to Wellington for a few days last week, has the best one. She wishes she’s kept the paper now. The front page headline was:

Man Throws Burger Through Window.

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