Far be it (or farbeit) from me to recommend a bargain, BARGAIN!
A free property report from QV worth $70 - I'm just waiting for mine now. And yes, I did my own place. Although it could lend itself to excellent stalking or nosy-parkerness if one were that way inclined...
I'm anticipating our house will be worth 12 million, and I'll be able to sell it, buy a yacht and live the life of luxury I so deserve.
Is everyone ready to embrace the 80s yet? Fashion seems to be dealing to them. I tells ya, I avoided bubble skirts (for that is what tulip skirts were then), and I shall be avoiding them this time. Ra-ra skirts on the other hand...
And the music - yes! Not all that clever Jesus and Mary Chain and Echo and the Bunnymen and JPS and stuff that I listened to then, but the fabulosity of Icehouse and Foreigner and Culture Club. I was too busy trying to grow up in the 80s to appreciate the mainstream stuff. However, a cd arrived today from Ms Lisa, and by gum, I put it on and Malo and I danced. I tried to film Malo so you could all be entertained by someone else's one year old (yes, I know), but he turned all grouchy, so is in bed while I listen to Starship.
A cd with the Hoff on the front, starting with Simple Minds and finishing with the Final Countdown. Sweeeet.
Oooh, I am much soothed by new colour and not trying to read white on black background any more.
Learning a bit of html has been quite fun actually. Maybe a new colour each day is in order.
Jokes, of course.
I'm not doing very well with the blogging this week. It seems to have been shifted from the forefront of my mind.
And in fact, today I'm lying in bed feeling a bit sorry for myself. It could be a hangover from the kindy disco last night, although all that was consumed was a hamburger and cake.
Erghh. Just writing 'hamburger' has made me feel slightly worse, so perhaps that is the culprit.
Or the fact that Glen took a day off work so we could enjoy the sun. This usually leads to Murphy's Law stepping in and giving him a legit sick day reason right after he has used annual leave.
I've got a cheeky new range of men's undies for Father's Day. Unfortunately the photos on the website are TERRIBLE. I took them late last night, and I was tired and under the influence of some chardonnay. I'll have to take more today. I need some hot male models. Lets face it, we all need some hot male models.
They're called Man Pants. We had lots of ideas for names, but Glen said they weren't very positive. Like Gunshy and Pistol Pants.
The undies look cute as a button on.
Lovely David Slack has linked to babylicious, which is fabulous, and generating lots of lovely traffic. Unfortunately the website is all going a bit nutty in terms of gnarly white borders showing up everywhere in IE and stuff like that.
Thank goodness for sleeping boy, and National Radio on the laptop, and sun in the bedroom. And what am I doing? Blogging with my precious time! I think I'm procrastinating because I know you'll all be looking at the website thinking "shabby shabby shabby". I'll get there. My shopping cart is almost ready to go too. Well. Almost in that it looks good, but linking it to the site?
Ay ay ay.
Hey, my statcounter is almost at 40k. How about everyone stops reading me on their feed readers today, and clicks through, and we'll mark a new milestone with some champagne and martinis. Virtually of course. Well, I will really, and you can all imagine how good it will be, because most of you are probably stuck in offices doing things that keep the world ticking away, and bread on the table.
I really want those kidnappers to let Olaf Wiig go. It is very yucky and anxious making, and Olaf and Sven are a couple of Wellington hotties, and Olaf (nor anyone in fact) doesn't deserve to be held hostage. I'm super relieved that Olaf is okay, but please kidnappers, let him go! We loves him here in Wellywood. And Anita McNaught must be beside herself.
Does anyone remember Skits? The show? And they did a very good Anita McNaught parody called A Meter Maid Not.
Update: My sister has pointed out my info is a bit confusing. Sven and Olaf are a couple of hotties from Wellington. They're twins, and were always a bit of a gorgeous novelty when I was a youngster, being as they so hot and all. Olaf has been kidnapped.
I have this rockin' penpal these days. I heartily recommend it.
Look what I got!
Thanks so much Oy Vey. You da bomb. And I da gangsta (it seems).
I'm onto my second bag of Combos already.
Might be curtains for stitch and bitch. Hardly anyone showed last night. Heaps came the time before, but I can't be arsed organising and paying for it if nobody shows up. Sayonnara s'n'b.
I don't mind at all really, it was nice while it lasted, but now I'm so damn busy in the evenings with millions of little tiny shirts (I wish it were millions, imagine, I'd be rich!) - I'm happy to give it up.
Famous I tells ya.
My scone recipe anyway.
I'll knock the other Martha off her perch yet.
I quite often have schemes and plans. Yesterday I had another one, although I'm well aware it will last about 7 minutes.
I thought I'd try and become a Dolly Bird. What could be sweeter? I put on moisturiser and flossed my teeth. Then I managed to blow-dry my hair into a mullet. So I gave up being a Dolly Bird yesterday.
Today I managed to make my hair not look like a mullet, I went to the gym, and I dressed in something other than a hoodie.
We shall call this Day of the Dolly, and hope that I manage slightly more Dolly-Birdish behaviour in the days to come. I'm vaguely thinking about leg waxing in the summertime, but I don't want to go completely overboard.
Finally, I have a small holiday to look forward to. Come December we'll be jetting to Auckers for a few nights, and then up to Whangers for a couple of nights and a 90th (I think) birthday party. I hear they're the ones to watch for - 21st parties feature kegs, 90ths star p pipes and crack.
Granted our holiday is some time away, but by jingo the new Air NZ Grab a Fare special rocks. We're all flying there and back for less than $500 - no mean feat when we all have to pay. Plus we had some air dollars to get rid of, so half the price again.
And question for all you experts out there (completely unrelated to holidays). Someone from Louisiana has asked about stocking my shirts. How hard is it to export? Is it as simple as putting everything in a bag and posting it? Or do I need to deal with Customs or something?
Watching the rerun of Weeds, and when I watched it the other night I didn't notice the music by Fly My Pretties - cool! Well, specifically Age Prior and Tessa Something or other...
I saw the music video the other day from High School Musical. I actually thought it was some indie band being incredibly ironic, and I actually thought the indie band was called High School Musical, and I actually thought that was quite clever.
So I had to watch the movie when it was on tv tonight. I bloody loved it. I didn't actually see much of it, as I was sewing labels into shirts (yawn). But I didn't really need to see it, because it is just Grease, but I mean that in a very positive way. I listened though, and yay for pop songs and musicals.
It is my major regret about the universe that we don't all burst into song and synchronised dance at the drop of a hat.
Although we saw what happened to Buffy when it hit the Hellmouth.
Babylicious has been kind of business-like for almost a month now. Kind of. And it is going really well.
I've got labels and tags, shelves and stock, even stockists. It is supremely fun, and as long as I can keep it at this level (ie. just me running it from home), I'll be as happy as larry.
I haven't got any aspirations to boot Pumpkin Patch and JK off their perches. I got a catalogue in the mail from JK today, and I just think I'll never be able to cater to the people that want their wee girls in capri pants with a shirt with pink seahorses on it.
I do have some ideas that are going to appeal more to adults though. Particularly male adults. I'm not sure what to call it though, babylicious seems a bit seedy when big people are involved. Maybe Wanda Harland the Brand will finally be born.
Another gorgeous day, and we're going to wag kindy and drive up the coast.
When I was a young 'un wagging was called bunking. I suspect that is a Christchurch-we-wish-we-were-a-small-english-town thing.
Wow, frost! In the balmy, sub-tropical (okay, seriously sub-tropical) haven of Petone. Which means today is a triumph of glorious frosty sunshine. And worth the cold toes in the morning.
And somehow my wee sub-tropical paradise has started attracting the tuis. We're going positively native around here. I credit my planting of some tui-attractants, although really they seem to just like the macrocarpa next door.
Man, I've gone all natural. I'll have a martini and get back to you with some crap shortly. It is the sun playing havoc with my brains.
Apparently when Finn is 32 and Malo is 30 they'll live in a house on top of our house, and I'll have babies for them to look after.
Which means I'll be a medical miracle.
And living in a tiny house in Petone with 2 grown men in the attic.
Flowers in the Attic.
Remember global warming? It was like a sweet promise for the future. "How bad can global warming be?" we asked, as we shivered into our hot chocolates.
But now dammit, they've changed the rules. Bloody climate change. Its all tsunamis and slips and low cloud cover and fog over Wellington airport.
I want global warming back. It sounded nice.
I finally watched The World's Fastest Indian. I liked it. Not massively, but quite a lot.
Did anyone else notice that Bert Munro's brother was called Ernie?
Bert and Ernie, Ernie and Bert.
Do not touch telecom.
Do not pay them $200 if you pass go.
They are bastards.
Clarification:
Sorry, it was a brief spurt, and then blogger went down so I couldn't clarify.
The situation is more or less this. My sister has no phoneline, and it has taken 4 weeks so far of technicians and so on. Yesterday she was assured by Mr T at Telecom that she would have a phone today. Today the Mr W at Telecom said that Mr T wouldn't have said that, because he knows Mr T, and Mr T isn't a liar. Which basically means he was accusing my sister of being a liar.
They have just been treating her like a moron, and I heard her on the phone today, and she is as far from sounding like a moron as I can imagine.
Oh, and she told them that basically they had to help her because she doesn't have any other options (she can't get Telstra), and the guy said "yes you do". And she doesn't!
Until we remembered Woosh. So no more Telecom. Ta ta.
I've managed to wrangle my email account to accept emails from babylicious. Go on, try it, make my day.
martha at babylicious.co.nz
It was one of those seemingly simple things that has taken about a week to figure out (who knew there was an admin area in my website? Sigh, steep learning curve).
I know it is as tedious as talking about the weather or dreams, but you know we all do it.
Petrol! Our car costs $100 to fill up now. That is approximately 120% of our disposable income. And it isn't like it lasts very long either, we usually get just over a week out of it. Although when the weather improves I daresay I'll be on foot a bit more.
I like the future, but really, you need to be able to afford aspects of it, like transportation and computers, otherwise there is just no bloody point.
I'm kind of doing that beat poet vibe today. Imagine me in a beret, fag nonchalently drooping, clicking fingers.
The kid man,
Sick, (click) wanting UP! (long hiss noise)
Never sleeping
Wiggles (ahhhhhhhh)
So, not a bed of roses here. Not utterly terrible, but no time for ME ME ME ME ME ME ME.
You get that though. And in 18 years they will have left home, and I'll miss them.
Look what I made
It is from the future, man.
I don't even know the powers it possesses yet.
Freaking trippy.
Ode to a martini
Ahh, martini,
Sweet nectar of the gods,
How you made my ears tingle,
How you made me get drunk.
Friday I went out with a few of the Wellingtonista crew for a martini taste. Tom guided us through the fine art of how to eat the olives, Alan looked like he could've coped with more, it was lovely to see Jo again, and I have her 101 stories to read now. We were also joined by the mysterious Maximus. (I have just shamelessly ripped off all Alan's links, so much easier than doing them myself).
We had some food at Last Supper Club, some cocktail (is that cocktails singular?) at Ponderosa, and some g and t at Go Go. Tom had a martini of course.
We were on the bus home by 10.30pm, so perhaps not the wildest night, but beautiful because I completely escaped feeling hungover. A miracle, or perhaps drinking things that cost $14 kind of limits ones consumption.
And I was hilarious on the bus. Everyone thought so. They just kept their laughter inside so that it wouldn't make me blush.
Annoying song in brain mission completed.
Speaking of brain, where is mine? Today I made cornbread, with custard powder instead of baking powder. Now, I'm a competent cook, not brilliant nor necessarily inspired, but I don't make cock ups. Incidentally, how come people can say cock ups without smirking? I know I'm 12, but surely it is funny. Like when the plumber talks about male parts and female parts and nipples with a straight face. If I was a plumber I'd be either laughing all day, or sacked for bringing too much innuendo to the trade.
I thought custard powder might not actually have too much impact, because it is basically cornflour, and I was making cornbread. But it tasted like custard. Literally, I turned the cornbread to custard.
Now I shall crawl into my hole until it is time to drink martinis with the crazy Wellingtonista crew at the towers, those wacky kids and their expense account.
As youse fellas know, I spend my every waking hour trying to replicate Martha Stewart's life. First the name, then the cooking, handy hints, now this whole craft thing.
Obviously, like Martha, I appreciate that cleanliness is next to godliness, and I spend hours purging the house of clutter, riff raff and filth.
So what to do when a robot comes home from kindy looking almost exactly like the recycling bin contents?
I bought some adwords for babylicious. I got my first "click through" this morning. Whatever you do, don't click on my ad if you feel compelled to check it - it costs 59 cents a pop, but feel free to click on any crumby looking competitor sites - jokes! I'm aiming to not be evil as much as possible.
Easier said than done.
I try and bring an annoying song to your brain every day.
So, finally something to look forward to on the telly. Big Love AND the Sopranos on the same night. Cripes, my cup runneth over.
Wow. We've just been to the Park Road Post for a screening of a new short film called Shadow Over the Sun.
My parent's have a lovely old house in the Wairarapa, which was used as a set for the movie. It was barely recognisable having been transported to a riverside locale with the benefit of (hushed tones) technology. Consequently they scored us all tickets to the crew screening (I guess that is what it is called?). The director gave a wee spiel, and we all sat and watched the 8 minutes of film.
I don't think I'll go into the film. It had a jolly nice house in the Wairarapa in it, and a very attractive young actress, and some booby shots.
But Park Road Post (whatever that means). Cripes. It was like being somewhere very ritzy and California. All carpets and million dollar art works. The cinema was a triumph of Moroccan meets Egypt - north African you could say? With those lights that make you go "ooooh" as they change from red to green to mauve. Luverly.
Sadly we had to leave before the drinks got under way. There goes another chance for the social pages, although my family are still there, and they more or less add up to the same genetic material.
I've resisted writing these tips down for a long time. I don't really want to let people know that I didn't know some of these things until recently, but then, if I didn't know them maybe other folks don't know them either.
And I am named after Martha Stewart. And if you believe that, you'll believe anything (and should send me some money, because it will make you better looking).
So here are Wanda's 4 tips for life:
Keep your cheese in a plastic container. It doesn't need to be a flash container, but it needs to be airtight, and bigger than your cheese. If you this you will never cut off a piece of hard, yellow cheese again. All your cheese can go in the container, and doesn't need to be wrapped. I discovered this trick about 4 months ago, and by jingo it is more marvellous than you could imagine by reading about it (I can hear Vicus snorting from here).
To keep a stainless steel bench shiny and nice looking, you just need to dry it with a teatowel. I spent 2 years massaging our bench with all sorts of lotions and potions, and it is the teatowel that works best.
To get your loo nice and shiny, pour in bleach. Leave it. Easy.
And, last but not least...
Actually, I think that is all.
Now your tips please.
