Horoscopes FY 2013/14
Hello, reader(s). Long time between drinks, as they say. We have no credible excuse for the radio silence… but what we do have is the most comprehensive and borderline accurate astrology guide for Financial Year 2013-2014 that you will ever lay eyes upon. It was going to be a conventional calendar-year guide, but then we recalled the alarming importance that many of our reader(s) place on the FY, and decided to tie it to that. Also we didn’t get around to starting it till March.
You’re welcome.
Actual photo of T/C conjuring the below predictions.
Pisces
Ahhh the constant swimmer. Perhaps, little Pisces, FY 2013/14 will be a good year to stop swimming. Crawl out of the sea of uncertainty and bask in the glorious rays of stability. Rest your weary soul on the beach of inertia. This will actually be your only option as the tea leaves suggest that you will come into financial ruin in the First Quarter, thereby kibosh-ing any travel or career change plans you may have had. So just stay still for the year and start taking your lunch.
Your ensemble: Something made at home, probably involving hessian. Eg. a sack.
Your catchphrase: Yeah I’m keen. As long as it’s BYO. BYO wine and food, I mean.
Your location: The half of your room your bed is in. You’ll need to sublet the other half.
Aries
Roll over Aries. Whether you are single or coupled, take a cold hard look at the other side of the bed. Singles: is there a gaping man/lady-sized space there? Couples: even if there is a man/lady-sized man and/or lady there (figure that one out), it’s unfortunately splitsville for you lot in the first quarter.
But chin up. Remember that you Aries have energy in spades…which you’ll need for the tens of internet dates you will attend this year. Like everything else in an Aries life, you will aggressively pursue a suitor(s)/suitess(s) with a modicum of success but will ultimately fail to Find Love this FY 2013/2014. Good news, though – your sex life will be off the chain.
Internet representation of Aries. Make of it what you will.
Your ensemble: Town clothes. On a Sunday!
Your catchphrase: I’m just being really selfish right now.
Your location: Your place or mine.
Taurus
Hey you Taureans. Taureanites. Taurusi. Whatever, your plural isn’t important. What is important is the urgent need to correct the lack of spontaneity in your overly contemplative world. 2013 is the year of “Yes!”. And of “No!”. It doesn’t matter which, just make a snap decision for once in your dithery lives.
Also, you need to eat a bit less. So that’s more of a “No” in the snap decision department.
Your ensemble: Something that’s practical for numerous spontaneous scenarios. Eg. Technical sandles (waterproof variety), zip-off Kathmandu trou and a full range of Icebreaker upper body wear. You can dress that shiz up or down. Well, you can dress it up if you’re a NZer – pretty sure no-one else does that.
Your catchphrase: Sounds great, I’m in!/Sounds lame-o, I’m out!
Your location: All over the shop.
Gemini
Ah twins. Such a weird concept. Our zodiac source’s usual reference in that department (the Olsen twins) doesn’t really work here because extensive research (Grazia) has not revealed which one is really sweet (ie the Good Twin), and which one is a total b*tch (ie the Evil Twin). All we know is that both are mega loaded and Uncle Joey is still keeping it real. Back to the stars that matter.
Unfortunately for you Geminites, this first quarter your Evil Twin (latent alcoholic) corrupts the Good Twin (diet fanatic) faster than you can say the Winklevosses created FB. Luckily, the new fad diet for this FY (fasting) allows the Good (but now Evil) Twin to fight back in a devious but non-violent way. Just go lighter on two days a week: only 500 calories. So, that basically means you’re allocation is three pints or two jäger bombs. Or four jäger bombs with diet red bull.
Mmmmm books.
Your ensemble: Assorted glasses. Shot glasses, that is.
Your catchphrase: I’m starving today so make that four Gin and Slims thanks.
Your location: The pub, obvs.
***BREAKING NEWS***
Shortly prior to blog-drop we discovered this: The Olsens actually are Geminis. COINCIDENCE OR MIND-BLOWING COSMIC MAGICALNESS? You decide, just don’t say we don’t bring you the sweet Olsen triv.
Cancer
Hey you guys. Let’s just say it’s fortunate you’re known as the most adaptable of the star signs, because you’ve got some adapting to do. This FY sees you lose at least two (2) crucial technological tools. And our sources say it’s most likely your smartphone and pedometer. We know!!!! So you’re going to have to learn how to SURVIVE, olden-days style. In terms of advice, T/C can’t remember how society actually functioned in those dark days before smartphones and pedometers, so you’re on your own there. We suggest you join a commune.
Cruise – famous cancerian and geranium fanatic
The good news is that your scent of 2013/2014 is geranium. Which is pretty much everywhere, so you can’t go wrong.
Your ensemble: Geranium smock.
Your catchphrase: Mmmmm, you can almost taste the geranium.
Your location: A geranium bed. In a commune.
Leo
Old bossy boots Leo. That overinflated sense of self will come back to bite you in the third quarter and, whatever happens, this will cause you to reassess your entire personality. What that means in reality is that you will be all over the shop this FY trying to Find Yourself like Britney in the meltdown phase.
So although you will spend most of the 3rd and 4th quarter wasted, you will attempt (in vain) to counterbalance this with a hectic schedule of thirty-day bikram challenges, ten-day silent meditation retreats and a diet of acai berry and kale shakes. Don’t worry, you will eventually have a Russell Brand moment and realise that you are actually quite cool sans bottle of wine/gram of Angel Dust. You just have to hit rock bottom first.
Your ensemble: Yoga pants.
Your phrase: I’ll have the acai berry and kale cocktail with four shots of the sun infused juniper potato based vodka.
Your location: goop.com.
Virgo
Apparently this is a Virgo tattoo. Who cares, the point is it’s beautiful.
Hey Virgo. We know what you’ve been going through. Always pigeon-holed as the “shy one”. The “narrow-minded one”. As true as those descriptions patently are, now is not the time to go OD’ing on Meow Meow and bath salts in order to become more ‘fun’ and ‘out there’. According to our zodiac source, you are “like rare and special orchids”, and you “require individual treatment to fully blossom into their [your] true unique beauty”. Unfortunately we have no idea what that means.
Look, we think the safest policy is to be less shy via Dutch Courage, just don’t drink so much that find yourself peeing in other-gender-fashion (to be clear: for guys that means sitting down; for girls – standing up).
Your ensemble: Anything, as long as you’re peacocking. Use ribbons at will.
Your catchphrase: I love parties! I’m gregarious! Who says gregarious!? I do!
Your location: Wherever there’s a party and some easily-tolerated, low-intensity stimulants.
Libra
In luuurrrrve, much, Libra? Much like the ‘Heathrow Injection’, ‘Lover’s Lard‘ creeps up on you and, before you know it, you’ve put on a few…*pat stomach*. No one has said anything because they don’t want to hurt your feelings. Also because they’re really sick of your nauseating ‘in-love-ness’ and are enjoying watching the obesity disaster unfold.
We would recommend unearthing those ab-krunchers, ankle weights, sweatbands and bestselling Hypnosis DVD: ‘Feel the Burn: your literal and metaphorical guide to weight loss’, but the cards tell us that your efforts will be thwarted by your significant other.
Your ensemble: Elasticated pants. Elasticated skirts. Those trainer things that tone your arse while you walk.
Your catchphrase: Not for me…oh go on then.
Your location: Weight Watchers, but only when you’ve been good.
Scorpio
It’s hard, as a New Zealander, to ignore the Supergroove classic – “Scorpio Girls” – when dealing with this complex starsign. According to the lyrics, a Scorpio girl is: “seductive ’cause she’s cool like a dipper, you get hot like a roskie and you’re acting like a gripper, better chill out like a monkey in a tree, because she’ll take your fins and throw you back in the sea.”
Teens dancing to Supergroove circa 1994
What we can take from that is that (a) Supergroove was more beats than lyrics, and (b) Le Scorpie is a powerful vixen. This is true – El Scorp is, according to astrology academia, the most powerful of the star signs.
But hang on you cock-sure Scorpies – word on the astro-street is that happiness evades you. As Lynn of Wainuiomata (Cert. Astrol., Whitireia) reports: “Scorpios … have difficulty finding what they need to develop their own happiness.”
Come on, guys. You know you’ve got it. You’re winners, plunderers of the zodiac, astro-kings/queens. You’re top-shelf! Although be aware that this is a bad hair year for you, and also a bad b.o. year, so shelve those romantic goals and get ready for some me-time.
Your ensemble: Power suit.
Your catchphrase: Whoaaaa what’s that smell?! Oh, wait…
Your location: Your happy place.
Sagittarius
Chill the frick out, Saggies. We get it already.
Ah, opened-minded and environmentally responsible Saggies. You are the opposite of your tantric (and currently floundering) partner sign, Leo. After a particularly harrowing moment in the ready-meal aisle at Tesco (in which you couldn’t decide between posh lasagne or everyman’s fish pie) you spent most of FY 2012/2013 Finding Your Place in the World. This would be all well and good if you hadn’t been such a prize a-hole about it.
As if the FB quotes of the day aren’t enough, you will continue with your “I died (metaphorically) and rose again (metaphorically) and it made me realize how it is, like, so ridiculous to pay 4 quid for a coffee unless you’ve followed the supply chain from beginning to end with only the clothes on your back and a friendly smile for currency” clap-trap for the forseeable future.
Your outfit: Organic cotton and smug-face.
Your phrase: Were these bees hand-reared?
Your location: 10am free range bacon sarnie on GF bread / 3am 3 piece pack from the chicken shop.
Capricorn
Whoa whoa whoa Cappies! You’ve got a pretty delicate work/life balance going on there. Chill out with that insane and fruitless attempt to make it all work! But it’s okay, FY 2013/2014 is all about life. Work is taken care of, in the sense that you’ve been in the same job for so long that you won’t get fired or redundafied, yet you’re not remotely interested enough in it for it to really progress.
Sooooo…the balancing exercise this (financial) year is about the careful balance of sickies, genuine holidays, non-genuine holidays and late days. Essentially, you need to look at the Outlook calendar and plan a whole pile of sweet nothing. Put simply, you’re not really going anywhere (career wise), but also: you’re going everywhere (holiday wise).
Your ensemble: Togs under suit.
Your catchphrase: I am out of the office. If your enquiry is urgent, please contact [office nemesis].
Your location: It’s a 3 days on, 4 days off arrangement: mini-break ahoy!
Aquarius
Ever the early adaptor, you are all over new fads, Aquarius. You knew the dance moves to Gangnam Style before Psy did, for God’s sake.
But let’s be honest with (y)ourselves, Aquarians – you’re spending so much time helping with others’ projects that your own extra-curricular life is a barren wasteland. Which means you’re getting a bit boring. Which explains the lack of FB friend requests. Sadface.
So this FY is all about putting the I in Team and actually completing something for yourself, even if it’s only in a God loves a trier sort of way.
So pull out that crocheting machine and finally figure out how to put arms on that thing! Say oui to those 10 French lessons you bought on Groupon! Say bow chicka wow wow to those pole dancing lessons you also bought on Groupon!
Your ensemble: It’s all about the accessories. For example: crocheting machine. French for Dummies. A pole.
Your phrase: when you plan to fail, you fail.
Your location: Anywhere there are extracurricular activities being carried out. We understand they’re often called ‘groups’ or ‘clubs’.
JT: aquarian, musician, champion of the turtle-neck
Finally, because you’ve been such good and patient wee readers, we deliver to you this sure-to-rise gem of a pop song. It’s also possibly sure-to-infuriate, but mark our words, this little lady’s destined for big things. That or Telethons. Speaking of faded NZ starlets, what happened to K’Lee? Stay tuned…
Blog containing an uncharacteristic number of sciencey references
Greetings friends, enemies, frenemies, BFFs, BFFLs, Good SOHs, NSFWs, besties, beasties, long time listeners first time callers and woodland folk.
A short but attractively-built post for you today, just to keep the T/C fire burning.
First off, let’s take in a bit of music. Music has been scientifically proven to improve stuff, in your brain and that. And according to ‘science’, dancing burns like 80 calories per square-metre that you dance, so that’s positive too.
To give credit where it is allegedly due, we acknowledge that we may possibly have been referred to these discoveries by members of the wider fanbase. But there’s no need to get all uppity about it, it’s not as though you discovered penicillin or anything.
Alt-J:
Wild Beasts:
TRENDING
– Not using a smart phone. Rigorous studies performed by T/C indicate that less use of a smart phone results in increased brain exercise and memory-fibre stimulation (MFS) which ultimately yields increased memory power. Conclusion=people without smart phones are more brainier.
– Almost karate-chopping a man who was thought to be a cycle thief, before releasing him under the impression he wasn’t one, before realising on the way home that he had indeed been half-way through a wheel-steal and therefore being totally happy that you interrupted him. Despite unwittingly releasing him.
– Pencils.
– Dry feet after a massive downpour. T/C=1, Inner City Pressure=Nil. Suck on that, city!
OPPOSITE OF TRENDING
– Average sushi. WTF, London. How dare you call yourself a cosmopolitan city with that selection of half-arsed soosh joints.
– Kimmy Gibbler. Still super annoying-looking.
Full House reunion. Gibbler still uber annoying. Michelle(s) absent/too rich for these folk. Uncle Jessie keeping it real.
Keep sending us your agonies. Although less first-world-problem ones thanks – “Must one buy a Marc Jacobs when one turns 30?” and “When you’re having scones with tea AND prosecco, do you have the prosecco or the tea first” don’t quite fit the bill.
Oh and give yourself a green piece of pie for every sciencey reference you spotted. Hooray for science!
Auntsmanship and other T/Cs that will change your life
OMG two posts in four months. This is getting out of control, we’ll have to slow down so as to avoid what I believe is known in marketing circles as ‘brand saturation’.
Speaking of which, having performed intense market research re T/C (this blog) we can now reveal that a staggering 100% off all those surveyed (Lana) stated a preference for more agony aunt type material. So we’ve decided to dabble in that from time to time – agony auntsmanship. Please send us your agonies and we will aunt the crap out of them…if they’re interesting enough. If it’s regarding a disappointing All Blacks result it’s unlikely to feature. And Mum if it’s about how to work ‘the internet’/Sky/DVD player then that’s also a non-starter. We hope (sincerely) that this new blog format, involving ‘user interface’ and less work, will be slightly more on the regular than in recent months. If you lot get off your asses and actually contribute for once it would certainly help.
Oh and we’re also going to continue with the Yay/Nay column because it’s bite-sized fun and absolutely necessary if you want to be credible in the e-zine space.
This week’s AGONY:
“Dear T/C,
I don’t have a mobile phone. I don’t even have a landline. How the hell do I make a booty call?
Love Dwayne.”
Hmm, interesting predicament, Dwayne. It makes one wonder whether the B-Call even existed pre mobile cellular technology. Could you call the booty by pager? How did pagers even work? Off track but intriguing.
Anyhoo, Dwayne, you have a few options. These are based on the premise that a critical aspect of a booty call is that you don’t deal with the target face to face, or even conversationally…i.e. you need a substitute for ye ole text message:
- Erect (pun alert!) a flag pole on your property and when booty is required, raise a flag with the object of your affection’s name on it, as well as a time and perhaps ensemble suggestions. The booty would have to be in the area, so it’s a long shot. If desperate, just use “anyone in the area” instead of a name. PROS: kind of piratey. CONS: everyone knows your business.
- If the booty is in a farmey type area and they have one of those mailboxes with a little red flag, simply pop a wee booty call. message into the mailbox, raise the red flag and return to the boudoir for action stations. PROS: you get to raise the red flag thingee. CONS: we understand from our rural connects that it’s actually most likely the postman/lady checking a red-flagged mailbox, so you’d better be happy with postie booty as a Plan B.
- Have the booty call message delivered to the target by carrier pigeon. PROS: Quick, effective and anonymous (unless the pigeon is a total gossip). CONS: carrier pigeons are hard to come by, and to be frank anyone who owns a pigeon is probably not in the booty market in the first place.
So those are some ideas for you Dwayne. Good luck with that.
Onto…
TRENDING
- Realising, whilst walking your broken bike home over 10km, that you can do a pitch-perfect impression of Roy Orbison singing “You Got It”.
- The musical gem that is “Gloria” (sparkley vid below)
- Winning an Olympic gold medal in archery WITH NO ARMS.
OPPOSITE OF TRENDING
- Having your pedal fall off your bike approx. 10km from home, although only until the Orbison discovery noted above.
- Smacking your arm on someone’s side mirror while trying to squeeze past on your not-very-squeezy-past-bike. Two side notes: the driver refused to talk and instead spewed cyclist hate from his eyeballs. The English accent that (inexplicably) came out of one’s mouth in the face of adversity/no insurance.
hashtagtrending
It can’t possibly be February since our last blog? When T/Cs says sporadic, boy, do we mean it. No wonder we only have six Facebook friends hanging on to our every (O) status update. That makes T/Cs a loser in the blogging world but, you know, our blog has humble beginnings which will be massively exploited by our management team when we hit the big time. Biebs probably only had six Facebook friends before Usher’s talent scouts found him on YouTube and now he has more than 20 million twitter followers which is unbeliebable considering that video where he dances really badly and is, quite frankly, not bad for a Canadian. JUST JOKING CANADIANS. ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman!’ set the bar really high.
T/Cs likes to think we are pretty good at keeping abreast of the trends, but in reality we probably operate on a two year lag. You know when you sort of sign out of pop culture for a while and all of a sudden, you’re the only one with David Gray still on your ipod? Or the only one with an ipod, for that matter. Simon. And, as T/Cs is a bit slow on the social networking uptake, we prefer the (potentially annoying) retro approach of just saying ‘hashtag-trending’ about anything that seems a bit ‘trendy’ right now. Like lavi (that’s lavender) chinos are ‘hashtag-trending’ along with the Claire Danes revival and ‘MORE TUBE FAILURES with [countdown days] until THE OLYMPICS’. Has everyone heard about tube breakdowns and THE OLYMPICS? Good.
T/Cs doesn’t watch much telly. But we do watch loads of telly on the internet and there is hashtag-trending: good shit out there:
# Legal dramas. God knows T/Cs are great fans of this genre and how unlike real life it is. Swing into the office, drink coffee, yell loudly into phone, intersperse generally snappy dialogue with phrases like ‘let’s get the bad guys’, make a totally cutting but somehow moving closing argument to a full jury, cultivate a drinking habit, cheat on partner with co-counsel/colleague/any other person that’s also a lawyer. On second thought there are definitely some parallels. Telly Gold. Get thee to the internet and find Suits and The Good Wife.
# BBC2: Britain in a Day. I laughed and I cried and I started scheming about doing this in New Zee. Editing together Joe Public’s footage sounds like a disaster but this. is. amazing. editing. It’s just joyful and wonderful and everybody must see it.
# Also on BBC2: Louis Theroux’s Twilight of the Porn Stars. Ghastly name but like a really well edited train wreck.
# Girls on HBO. I suspect that most guys prefer not to re-live all the stupid shit that girls do and I get equal amounts pissed off by this show, but for some reason watched the whole season.
# All the Beautiful People. That’s real life you guys. It’s summer(ish) and London is a-rocking. When it isn’t raining.
Gosling would win at Country Calendar and University Challenge anyway
Ahoy!
Yes apologies for the radio silence. I have worried at times that our readers, like neglected spouses, may have found comfort in the arms of another blog. We can’t stand the thought of you with some other slappery blog, so here we are. And we’re going to make a real go of it this time. When time allows.
Can I just start by complimenting you, Hols, on the snazzy grey text boxes. If 2011 was the year of “less is more”, 2012 is definitely the year of “more text boxes is more”, so we’re setting the pace on that front.
I’ve been in London (England) for approximately some months now. To be honest, I haven’t really been keeping up with the current events or a whole lot of ‘popular culture’, so am not entirely sure what’s been going on out there. In fact, my summary of important recent local/global/ iss-ues, based on what I’ve seen/read/pretended to be interested in during conversations doesn’t go much further than the following:
- A ship ran aground near Mauao (‘the Mount’) and heaps of mean-as gears washed up at Main;
- Ryan Gosling;
- Beyonce was with child, then delivered child;
- Dan Carter was with injury, then married;
- There was an election and some related tape recordings about teapots;
- Ryan Gosling;
- Wearing tights in place of trousers became okay; and
- Earthquakes.
I think that’s the guts of it.
Settling into a new place can be unsettling. It certainly distracts you from important goings-on in life, hence the frankly embarrassing, entirely unworldly list above.
Jiggery-pokery, indeed.
Part of settling in is the whole ‘one foot in one camp and one in the other’, sitchunario, which has you simultaneously looking back over your shoulder and diving head-first into a shiny new life. I think it’s interesting discovering what you miss about the old place and like about the new. It’s not always what you expect. So far I have missed the following about New Zee: Country Calendar, 5-10 person drinks that ‘escalate’ into 3-5 person living room dance parties which feel enormous but ultimately look a bit weird in photos, aimless driving and walking uphill. Things I like about the new place include: gloves, University Challenge, occasionally-seen train chivalry, staring contests with foxes and top-front of buses.
Of course there are other, more significant points for each, but those are a few of the hits.
There’s no denying that snow in the new place is pretty cool. On the right (and up a bit) is a pic of me taking a pic in a snowy cemetery. It’s kind of weird, a photo of someone taking a photo. All sorts of mental jiggery-pokery going on there.
Freezing frames.
And to the right is some snowy street art that a guy who’s good at street art did.
That’s some cleverness for you. In fact I would go as far as to say it’s spectacle-ular. Holy smokes that’s some hot blogging!
Stay sharp.
Business slash pleasure
Happy New Year! Sorry about the lack of thoughtsslashcomments: we fell down a carb-hole of lethargy and Inner City Pressure. So, in a bid to keep blogging sporadically, we’ve eaten our last packet of Digestives, and resolved to bring you a mainly protein packed 2012. Practically speaking, one or the other of us will blog, sporadically.If there’s one thing thoughtsslashcomments has been hearing all the kids are up to lately, it’s office romances. If we were editors of a weekend magazine, we’d be putting it in the ‘Going Up’ section along with multi-coloured chinos, the Downton Abbey Christmas special, and anything with Gosling in it.
I’m sure you’ve all heard that New Zealanders are meant to be the most promiscuous population on the planet. If the post rugby world cup crowd outside the The Grand AKA The Church are anything to go by, I’m sure Durex will have a splendid time crunching the 2011/2012 numbers. Go Kiwis.
So yeah, the workplace romance. Surely, everyone has had a workplace crush at some point? For some, it might be reminiscent of The Offices’ long-suffering Tim/Dawn saga, or for others the more classic “Dennis from Accounts” encounter. Whatever your situation, take the thoughtsslashcomments test to assess:
Love in the time of corporate flu injections
–
You both hate your jobs. Y/ N / Maybe
– Your eyes frequently meet over the partition. Y / N / Maybe
– You ‘accidentally’ coordinate your visits to the water cooler/vending machine. Y / N / Maybe
– Sufficient due diligence has ruled out the possibility that he/she is married or in a relationship. Y / N / Maybe
Mostly yeses and maybes
The office Christmas party is your friend!
Note: If you hate your job, you need to ensure that workplace crush is not merely a distraction to avoid dying from boredom. While this resourcefulness is to be commended, it is likely that workplace crush is not really as good looking / successful / interesting as the disproportionate amount of emails you have sent to your workplace bestie might suggest. The same applies if you also hate most of your colleagues.
Mostly no
Thoughtsslashcomments suggests that any contemplated workplace romance should be filed under: Project Too Much Admin.
And, if it all turns to custard, you can always pull a dirty move on the netball court. Corporate sports: good for fitness and revenge.
The Dosser’s Guide
H: Simon, hello. Hello also to London, the mother-ship of the colonies. I must say, on arrival here a lot of things now make sense. Like how spoken English in India is punctuated with formality (‘..and-what-is-your-good-name? The inconvenience is Deeply. Regretted’), and why there was so much admin of the form-filling variety.
My brother recently told me that when he arrived in London, he stayed in a flat housing 10 or so Kiwis/Aussies, and that he was one of five ‘dossers’. And, because thoughtsslashcomments loves a good definition, our trusty resource urbandictionary.com describes ‘dossing’ as ‘…paying to stay on somebodies couch/sofa (particularly a London term amongst Antipodeans’ and South Africans)’ (sic..sic..).
The path to London is not so much a beaten one, as a path stampeded by a herd of fat kids trying to get to the tuck shop. I now understand why. What a city! But it’s tough, and as someone who has been on the receiving end of amazing ‘doss’ generosity from friends who are already set up here, it’s nice to know that they know exactly how you feel. To suddenly go from boho to business was a complexity of emotions, similar to realising that Santa was actually your Mum, or that you will never be a professional sportswoman (bewilderment, regret, the victim of a fraudulent scam).
UK Foreign Office: crushing dreams all over the place.
Anyway, dossing with 10 people (+ four fellow dosser) does not exactly fit within thoughtsslashcomments’ framework of bourgeois principles. So, I’m pleased to say that there are some benefits to arriving in London not in my early 20s. Dossing is way nicer (kind of like the dossing equivalent of a ‘Flash-packers’) and, thoughtsslashcomments may be jumping the gun here, but is nonetheless proud to present:
The Dosser’s Guide to Harmonious Living Arrangements, Part 1 – combatting dosser’s anxiety
a) Prioritise all dosser duties
– When the only thing you’ve been asked by your doss to do is to wash and dryer the towels, you will feel genuine anxiety that your Thursday afternoon bicycle date for the unemployed may prevent you from completing your one and only task for the day. Action: prioritise towels.
– You ran into a fellow friend/dosser after an interview and they suggest a pint. You will feel genuine anxiety that you will not get back to your doss to take care of the electricity bill. Action: electricity for your doss.
b) Free the domestic goddess inside of you
– There is a definite feeling of having to make it slightly less sh*t for your doss. This generally means doing the dishes way more than you normally would.
PS. I love you guys. Anyone with a spare couch?
S: Ahhhhhh dossing. I too am in the thick of it. And having dossed in New Zealand’s unofficial largest city on several separate occasions, I fully support the proposition that it’s better when your friends are upwardly mobile. I’ve of course been grateful for every dossing door that’s been opened to me, but the ones where you don’t sleep in the garden are definitely best.
You’ve made a strong start to the D.G.H.L.A. The dishes point resonates in particular – I’ve got crazy ‘dishpan hands’ right now. Sometimes I just loiter in the kitchen waiting for a dish to be delivered, so there’ll be minimal ‘bench time’ for that particular dish. It’s an art. I think a couple of the flatties find it weird when they see me just standing in the unlit kitchen in the middle of the night with tea towel in hand. To me that’s just awesome dosser conduct.
A less than ideal dosser sitch.
In addition to the dosser’s administrative functions, the dosser is obliged to bring some serious personality-game to the doss. So, to continue where you left off…
The Dosser’s Guide to Harmonious Living Arrangements, Part 2 – personality value-add: heal the doss, make it a better place
a) Dosser as mediator
We’re all experienced in the nature of flats. In any given flatting sitch there will be occasional discord, tension. It may be cleaning roster-related, or tied to more fundamental differences e.g. views on the Scott Watson verdict. One person may even find themselves on the outer. The dosser must swoop, befriending the “minority” and revealing their redeeming qualities through careful conversational trickery in front of other flatties: “Nice hat, [flatmate x]” or “You cook really interesting meals, [flatmate y]” are examples. It’s a bit like David Arquette’s role vis-a-vis D. Barrymore in the movie “Never Been Kissed”, but the less said about that film and the fact that I’ve seen it, the better.
Also, as a relatively independent party you’re well-placed to resolve questions as to “who drank my milk” or “who racked up the pay-per-view porn charges”. Again a sensitive touch is required. In some cases the dosser may be obliged to take the heat and falsely confess to drinking the milk and/or consuming porn, in order to maintain harmony.
b) Dosser as cheerleader
Flats can be ‘total downer’ environs from time to time. People get edgy, tired of sharing space with others or just sick of the monotony of life in general. This is dosser’s time to shine. Dosser must put their own job-hunt, flat-hunt, spouse-hunt anxieties to one side and focus on Tony Robbinsing the shit out of that doss. Crack a few funnies, gift the flat a dozen super-chill Fosters for no particular reason and, if you’re skilled in music, theatresports or mime, do a performance or two. It’s also a good idea to dedicate a bit of time each day to some one-on-one face time with each flattie, just to find out what’s getting their goat and give them some words of wisdom.
The only problem with this is that it’s a fine line between ‘genuinely decent dosser’ and ‘dickhead’. Keep the miming to a minimum, and steer clear of anything resembling Dr Phil-isms. And if you’re a male, for god’s sake leave the seat down. Dossing/flatting 101.
In the air tonight: musical journeys
Is their best still to come?
H: I love music. Always have, always will. I definitely went through a phase of musical snobbery (the ‘indie’ phase’) where anything that didn’t involve skinny dudes, harmonies and cheap beer was not worth my time, nor student allowance. But this travelling gig (ooh, pun!) got me thinking the other day about this very thing: travelling and music.
Music is the best travel companion: it blocks out the person snoring/trying to engage you in inane conversation next to you, it can lull you to sleep, drown out cringe-worthy pop music Asia stylez, provides an excuse to pretend you didn’t hear ‘Hullo Missss…where you from…’ therefore diverting potential touts/hustlers (yes, you, India), and calms your nerves on a particularly harrowing bus trip.
For me, almost all trips have an associated song or album that has gone on high rotate for the duration. S, you may remember I revealed my secret shame: Blindspott (self-titled album) was the soundtrack to my Japan 2002/2003 working holiday.
So, in the interests of full disclosure to our thoughtsslashcomments readers, I have provided a list of some particularly noteworthy travel/music combos:
Family road trips in the 90s / AKA ‘the musical phase’ / Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera and Chess, the Musical / also anything by Phil Collins
Canada/United States 2003/4 – AKA the ‘dub phase’ / Salmonella Dub, One Drop East
2004 / the year of drums. And bass. And sweaty dudes in basement venues.
Ski season 2009 / Industry Groupie by Chamillionaire
The majority of this trip has been marred by a general Asian love of Bieber and Akon. However, my section of this blog is brought to you from the Greek Islands where two things were decided at the community hui: everything must be painted white with blue trim, and musical policy is limited only to the ‘100% Top 40 – Summer 2011 100%’ 3 CD set, guaranteed to get even the lamest person in the party mood.
S, I know you were quite partial to Xtina’s Dirrrty back in the early ‘naughties‘, but any other memorable moments?
Of emo’s, mo’s and evicted hobo’s
S: Whilst walking near Wellington’s Cuba Quarter recently, I realised that it’s been a while since I’ve seen many of the Emos around. There are a number of possible explanations:
- The Emo slice of the Cuba Quarter (the Emo Eighth) has been replaced by a Bus thoroughfare, forcing them to relocate to Johnsonville Mall; or
- The university-aged Emos are studying for their mid-year exams (religious studies and/or sciences); or
- The Emos have been bussed to Levin (incidentally using the very thoroughfare that replaced their hangout) in advance of “RWC 2011”, a la American cities bussing homeless people away when they’re on the world stage (the cities, not the hobos); or
- Other.
By ‘other’, what I mean to say is that perhaps this Emo biz is, quite simply, over. And that’s not to underestimate the work of the Emos – I’ve no doubt that at its peak, Emo felt permanent and relevant. But it’s interesting to me how these powerful social/cultural trends come and go so easily, when they’re engaged in so earnestly.
Kaimanawa Emo
It was similar I think with grunge, and from what I’ve seen on the talkies, it was similar with hippies and punks. They particularly had a strong counter-cultural agenda…but it all just sort of fades away. One explanation is that these movements are ultimately fashion-based. While some may engage purposefully and appreciate the deeper meaning/cause involved, others are really just in it for the clothes and drugs. No idea what I was getting at here actually, plus I’ve lost interest, but I’m sure you’ll agree I’ve made a powerful, vague case.
Oh yeah, I think what I was getting at in the most round-about of ways was: fads. A genre in NZ/Aotearoa’s recent 48 hour film comp was “fad”. One friend did a film about planking. For you ignorami, that’s this incredibly lame fad which I expect was invented in Australia and has recently taken the bogan world by storm. I refuse to post a picture of it, you’ll have to look it up.
Anyways I’m tres interested in fads at the mo, for some reason. It’s funny how into them we get. In a few years everyone will be totally bewildered by/ashamed of planking, but right now bogans everywhere are finding it the most hysterical thing since Dave wore his “No Fat Chicks” tshirt to mufti day. H, what’s the lowdown on sub-continental fads? Pics would assist.
H: Funnily enough, I was talking to a travel buddy the other day who suddenly said “what ever happened to emos?”. So I’m glad you were aimlessly pondering this, S.
Emos were never going to have any longevity given it was a fashion born of such bands as My Chemical Romance. A band like this was only ever going to have the shelf life of say, fresh milk, as opposed to those individually wrapped cheese slices. Which is kind of ironic given that processed cheese slices are like the Justin Bieber of the music world (that is, both cheesy and fake, and if you throw enough synthetic ingredients into something, eventually it has to stick together. Just in case I lost anyone with my dairy analogy). Ah hem.
Basically, I think the emo fad was short lived because they didn’t actually stand for anything except for boring, depressed people, and nobody likes them. Or they collectively discovered Prozac.
To the subcontinent. I’m not sure if these are fads considering India’s widespread love of both the mustache and flared trouser.
I hear police officers in India are offered an incentive payment if they grow a moustache. This is awesome. Given that the cops seem to be a) bored and/or drunk, b) disinterested in administering justice, and therefore c) completely ineffective, at least they look authoritative. On the other hand, there really is no explanation for the flared trouser. A lot of Indian men are very slim, just like John Travolta and your Dad in the seventies. Unlike JT and your Dad, there was no graduation to the chino or cargo pant. I think I will stop there.
Mo-beard=maximum authority/larger paycheck
Travel bugs
H: While I was in Hong Kong, I caught up with some friends who were nearing the end of an extended stint of travel to particularly intrepid destinations. We got talking about bumping into other foreigners – not the ‘hey man’…’hey man’…’you just arrived?’…’yeah’…’where you from?’ kind – the kind where you walked for five hours to an abandoned palace, traded a New Zealand five dollar for 250 rupees during a brief storm in which you took shelter in a local’s house, drinking sweet tea with 4 hens, 15 baby chickens and two babies (human) at your feet, only to exit said house and crash suddenly back to earth at the sight of a fellow North Face/technical sandal clad foreigner.
(Note: I admit here that I was forced to buy North Face trousers that zip off into shorts (‘how useful!’ I hear you say) for trekking but have not yet purchased any faux Nike technical sandals reminiscent of the 2005-6 South East Asian jaunt that some may recall).
I remarked to those friends in Hong Kong that the unspoken consensus at such an encounter generally requires each of you to pass by, casually staring into the middle distance and pretending that the other has not been a blight on your personal travel vista. My friends said: ‘oh yeah, you mean itchies?’ After some discussion, the following definition was compiled for submission to urbandictionary.com:
Itchy (noun): Derived from the particularly annoying affliction known as an ‘itchy an-us’ (pronounced ah-nus) or ‘itchy v’, an itchy is defined as a fellow traveller unknown to you or anyone that you know who, by their mere presence, has a direct, negative impact on your own sense of intrepidness.
Simon, I know you prefer to stick to areas where you can roll your suitcase without any obstruction (not to mention the comfort and breathability that a good tech-sandal can provide), but anything to add?
S:In an ideal world I wouldn’t be the one rolling my suitcase – my assistant would. And as I rarely travel anywhere “on foot” I’ve never had much need for technical sandals. But in any case, there’s nothing unsexy about the rare combination of structural robustness and breathability. That’s just intelligent design.
Form AND Function
The comparison you’ve drawn between a fellow traveller and Itchy V is dramatic to say the least. Many readers (probably about half) will still be struggling with the reference now. I’m cool with it, but that’s because I watch a lot of Discovery Channel.
I laughed for a little while after reading your bit, but then the laughter subsided, and I furrowed my brow slightly and said “Whoa. Hang on a minute here everyone. Haven’t we forgotten to play ‘the Devil’s Advocate’?”
By which I mean to delicately raise the point that you may well have been someone else’s Itchy too, right? Particularly any time you’ve been wearing the zip-aways and/or an I love New Zealand/ “I’m from here” huffer tshirt. I guess my point is that we’re all someone else’s Itchy from time to time. Well not me actually, I tend to adopt the local costume of wherever I’m travelling, so as to blend in at all times and avoid possible identification as a tourist. It’s called community camouflage. In Newtown, the Berlin of Wellington, it means wearing a beanie.
My local costume on the Albanian leg of my forthcoming adventure will be something along the lines of the image below-left. 
Pretty sweet. I used to get funny looks cruising around Wellington in that outfit, but in Albs it will be de rigueur. I apologise at this point for any offense caused to Albanian or otherwise sensitive readers. Just a bit of levity, so ‘chillax’. Evidently I’m knee-deep in the Planning Phase of travel, which I view as a very close second to the actual travel. It’s a hobby in itself, which with reference to the previous post means less time for electronic whittling (so to speak).
Anyhoosies having re-read my bit above I’ve decided I was not as supportive as I might have been of the following things: the indiscriminate labelling of other travellers, Newtown and Albania. I actually really like all those things, so my ‘tude was entirely unjustified and not at all becoming of thoughtsslashcomments. Let’s just attribute it to the come-down from the excitement of the Queen’s Birthday, and get things back on an even keel with Beirut’s first new song in years. So good.
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