My trip home nearly didn't happen. My mazda overheated the night before I was meant to leave. I went to see my mechanic and tried to act breezy. 'I need to get home today to cheer my mum up, she has to have radiation treatment, so if you could just patch up whatever is leaking, that would be fabulous.' I got a phone call a few minutes later to tell me there was no way I would be driving my car that day and I could kiss goodbye to around $600 to fix it. I then did what any self-respecting grown woman would do...sat at my desk and cried like a small child. I realised, not only did I want to surprise my mum, I have been pretty homesick lately and was really excited for a weekend with family and friends.
Flights were too expensive, so I figured the surprise that the whole family was in on, was a bust. But, once I pulled myself together, I googled cheap rental cars and found 'rent-a-dent'.
So off I headed to Christchurch, in an old Subaru sedan that made a funny wizzing sound when I accelerated. But I didn't care, I was going home. Enjoy a few snaps I took on the way, I truly love this country.
There are moments in life, when you wish the earth would
open up and swallow you. I have many of them. But I have come to terms with the
fact that this will be common place in my world. I am just one of those people
that weird shit happens to. Who am I kidding, I am the common denominator. I am
the frequent facilitator of my own weird interactions. Sometimes I wonder if I
was put on this earth for the sole purpose of entertaining my girlfriends over
Whilst dancing around like a boozy fairy at Aerosmith, I had
yet another one of these moments. I was in one of those moods where I was
letting the music control my body. Steven Tyler was streaking across the stage
in velvety bum-huggers; silk scarves swaying from his microphone. And I… had
been drinking whiskey, which ends in embarrassment 9.76 times out of 10.
Suddenly, through the crowd, came a Maori George Clooney. But,
best of all, I had never seen anyone dance like it. He had his head back, eyes
closed, and appeared to be doing some kind of on-the-spot marching mixed with
occasional gyrating. I was intrigued and seriously impressed. I’m a sucker for
a man who can unabashedly let loose on the dance floor.
We engaged in some form of a mating ritual. Some shimmies and
the occasional shoulder bump. During the exchange, a member of my group placed
a hot dog in my hand, you know the deep-fried wonders, dipped in sugary,
tomatoey tastiness. The kind of treat that is only appetising when inebriated
or at an A&P show after a whirl on the chairoplane.
The music slowed and we awkwardly stood together, not really
knowing what to say. I racked my brain
for something cool/mysterious. But I had nada. Before I knew what I was doing,
and as if it was the most natural thing in the world, I outstretched my arm and
offered my new dance partner some of my hot dog. Waved it in his face, like
that was the most logical plan when faced with a good-looking man. If
the act itself wasn't uncool enough, I had eaten all of the good saucy bit and
left the overcooked nubbin on the end.
I offered Maori George Clooney a sausage nubbin!! Good
I cringe even as I write this. Sometimes I would love to get
inside my own head. Was I dropped as a child. Did Mum carry on with the gin
well into the third trimester. There must be a genetic link, or some
physiological brain abnormality that makes me do such strange, socially
inappropriate things when under pressure!
After turning around, to see if I must have been waving my
hotdog at someone else, he smiled politely and declined. Heavens knows why. Who
could resist such an offering. As the concert was drawing to a close, I made an
excuse about finding my friends and abandoned MGC. Never to be seen again. Well…as
Dunedin is the size of a postage stamp, possibly to be seen again…at some
point. They say first impressions last, so I will forever be that strange girl in
a red pleather mini skirt, that smelt a bit like whiskey and offered up her bar
snack instead of any form of normal conversation.
But the whole thing got me thinking. Maybe a hotdog is the key
to all of this. One day, I will meet a boy, and I will drop my cool, and be the girl who offers him the scungy end of my nibbled hot dog, in the place of perfect words. This
boy will reply ‘oh! I love the crispy bit at the end, it’s my favourite!’ It will be like one of those moments on the movies. Harps and soft focus. Maybe it is through such acts that I will find my weird and
inappropriate match. Food for thought. Literally.
In the meantime, I have a feeling my life of singledom, and
all the adventures that accompany it, are going to keep my friends entertained
for a while longer yet…
(Maori George Clooney if you are reading this…call me.)
It's pretty gloomy out there today. So I found a coupla pics from the weekend to remind us that there is blue sky out there somewhere. It is just trying to fight its way through the stubborn Dunedin cloud.