Friday, 1 April 2011


This has been one suuuper long week, wow! It would’ve been pretty awesome too had I managed to hold onto my voice, but I haven’t, so now it sucks just a little.
On Sunday I was still like bluh, bit of a cold, but nothing major. Spent the morning trying to steal spoons from the Marks and Spencer’s around the corner from my backpackers with this group of Brazilian guys who I guess I was friends with even though I spoke more Spanish than they spoke English haha. They always tried to engage me in awkward, pigeon English type conversations in the lounge and when they learnt my name I couldn’t walk into a communal area without hearing “JENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN”
I swear to god there were about 15 of them, they all looked the same and they were EVERYWHERE all the time, crazy man. On this particular morning through sign language and the odd word I figured out that they were sick of the really scungey spoons that were in the kitchen so we went on a mission to steal plastic ones from the ‘cafe’ section. Marks and Spencer’s is a really faggoty supermarket department store kind of thing by the way with their own little cafe thing that sells crap, overpriced food. But what they do have is an abundance of plastic cutlery which we did get our hands on eventually.
 I then worked in a function from 12-6. Urgh. Boring. It was a fourtieth birthday with lots of screaming, spoilt Chelsea children. Which reminds me of one really insignificant thing that I have noticed which is that people here (well, people in Chelsea anyway) say “Please can I have...  a wine spritzer (or some shit)” whereas I’d say “Can I please have... beeeer”
 Annnnyway... point being their syntax structure makes them sound like a knob. And on the knob note, there is also a scary number of men that order Shandys in Chelsea ... just saying.
I had a run in with scary Polish bitch manager (who isn’t actually that bad as I’ve now discovered, but that’s what I was thinking at the time) and Paula was like “Oh just ignore her, she’s just a bit moody” and I asked Connor about her and he said that after two years he thinks she’s finally just started warming up to him. Greeeat. Actually, first I asked him “What’s the Polish ladies name?” and he was like “Um well, I wouldn’t exactly call her a lady” (haaa, too true)
I stupidly turned down an amazing piece of cake from the function people too as I didn’t feel like it at the time, but four hours later I was like daaamn what I wouldn’t do for that cake right now.
I had Monday off so I went to the Barbican Art Gallery ( to go to the Laurie Anderson, Trisha Brown and Gordon Matta-Clark exhibition, totally worth my ‘student’ concession price of 8 pounds (thank you Auckland University and your student I.D’s with no expiry date) It was pretty siiick. I’d seen lots of the Trisha Brown things from University already, but that didn’t matter. And for any dance majors reading this, there was the original mapping out of that piece with the people in the purple (??) unitards who all mush together doing that weird hip, walk thing. I had a little chuckle to myself about that, too funny. 
I liked this exhibition by Laurie Anderson in which she referred to photography in some situations being like mugging people. Her inspiration came from when she got confronted by a woman in a cafe who was CONVINCED she was some other famous person and then wouldn’t take no for an answer. Laurie Anderson then decided to ask if she could take the woman’s picture (as if to give the woman a taste of her own medicine) So from here she decided that every time a man in public made some sort of sexual comment or gesture to her she’d ask if she could take their picture to see what they’d do. She blacked out their eyes and added a little description about their reaction and what you see in the photo under each one. It was quite funny, and yeah, I liked it, just cos I diddd.
The Gordon Matta-Clark stuff was kind of interesting too. He focuses on ‘splitting’, which is quite literally just splitting buildings, or just parts of buildings, completely in half. Sounds kind of stupid when I put it that bluntly but yeah, it was mint. Buuuuuuut PROBABLY NOT so fascinating to read about without seeing it so I shall carry on.
Then I went to a ballet class! Yay! I went to an elementary level class which really was elementary, it was fine though. If anything it was tricky enough it just happened to be a class of really shit people fluffing their way through it. The teacher afterwards said if I came to that class because it was a time that suited me I should bring my pointe shoes (eek, no thanks. I STILL have a gnarly blister on my toe from well, 4 weeks and one day ago from final dance photo shoot hah, whaaat the fuuck)  
Afterwards I got a bit tipsy with Caroline off G&T’s and hot sake, and we had green tea ice cream, and it was amazing and and and I went ‘home’ very happy after that!
I did elementary ballet again on Tuesday, two classes two days in a row, wowww, it has been a while, then got stuck again doing a function upstairs at work with the most HORRIBLE room of Chelsea mofos ever. It was a function about buying shares in race horses, and as Paula pointed out, it was people that think they’re established high society but really they’re just arseholes with a bit of money from their parents.
At first they treat you like absolute shit, then they start getting a bit drunk and decide it’s fun to start hitting on you, then they get even MORE drunk and go back to being obnoxious dick faces. They chewed (I mean, drank) their way through a 1,100 pound bar tab!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But!!!!! still had the cheek to complain about drink prices after it had run out. One guy couldn’t BELIEVE a bottle of Becks was 4 pounds 10, and was like to me “You better be talking in Australian dollars” I said to him “Considering we’re in England, I’m not, and I wouldn’t anyway because I’m not Australian” to which he said “New Zealand, Australia, whatever, same thing. I’m just going to call you Australia”
And he did, for the remainder of the night. Douuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuche.
Everyone there suited the name Nigel; there was actually one guy that just HAD to be Nigel. There was no other name for him. He kept making ‘profound’ statements such as “Well we ALL know that what MAKES money is MORE money, so with THAT my filthy rich friends let’s have a drink” (He ACTUALLY said that) Paula and I just stood there like K Wow
When they were in their ultra obnoxious drunk stage they liked pointing out how we were so much better than their wives as we were “pretty faces who could pour a good pint without saying much”. Nice. Their wives were there, by the way. 
Also, the only beer we had on tap in the function room was Kirin Ichiban which they liked making fun of, for the entire night. One of them was like “WHAT would the JAPANESE know about making beer”. I pointed out that there are a lot of nice Japanese beers and he asked me to name another one, which I did so happily (Asahi, yum) Shame mother fuckker thinking you can one up me.   
I also pissed off one guy to the extreme because I refused to sell him anymore alcohol as he would’ve either thrown up or passed out, neither of which I wanted to deal with. Dammmn then he started abusing the crap out of me while his timid wife looked on and was like “Oh, I’m sorry, he gets like this when he’s had a bit much to drink.” I felt like telling her I was the sorry one that she was married to him, but yeah, I just stood there and stared at him (probably like this!/photo.php?fbid=492483411684&set=a.492483301684.267696.505031684&theater) and he gave up eventually (after calling me every name under the sun). To which angry Polish bitch was very impressed and now seems to like me, stoked.
Our free after work pint was most deserved and I drank mine way way too fast, on a way way way too empty stomach so was feeling nice and floaty by the time we left at 1:30. I’d written out all my bus catching instructions which Connor looked at and informed me that I could tube to one of the stops then have a slightly shorter bus ride home (was very happy about that, most of the underground trains stop running at midnight so then you’re stuck with the bus) He was catching the same tube so we walked there together and mannn he can talk the hind legs off a donkey. I’m pretty sure I got his entire family history (both parents from London, he’s one of nine kids (I think)) and a somewhat detailed summary of his past however many years in London, something about buying a scooter? Then it breaking? Then getting it fixed? I don’t know. Concentration was wavering.
Then it continued on the train where I was hit with my usual train=sleep vibe, so I was just nodding away while he carried on. Was quite literally nodding to everything and I’m pretty sure I’ve agreed to attend something with him (god knows what, I think it was dance related because I remember being surprised he had any interest in dance at all). Uh oh. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow at work as I HAVE TONIGHT OFF thanks to having no voice.
And it was Wednesday where the no voice began. I went to ballet anyway (three days in a row!! And I went to an advanced class for a change) then met up with Fiona’s cousin Claudia. Terrible first impression with me sounding like I do hah, but it was good nonetheless. The woman in Mallorca also rang me (arrrrrrrrgh bad timing). It took her forever to hear me rasping down the phone at her, and when she finally realised she was like “Oh my god you sound like you’re 100!” I was like “nooooo I swear I’m only 21, just sick!” But anyway, phone call = postponed.
Thursday I moved into new, way nicer, hopefully less diseased backpackers, and I cannot wait to ditch my stuff for more than a week at a time. I’m so glad that for the most part I have had some kind man offer to carry one of my bags for me up the stairs, but even still, I deserve the meatiest biceps ever after this past week or so (not that I want meaty biceps. I should get a sum of muscle that I can choose to place in any part of my body, stomach perhaps? Baha)
By now my voice was well and truly gone but I went to work anyway with the delusional idea that maybe lots of loud talking would help clear it (I didn’t genuinely believe that, but thought it may be a mind over matter type thing, it really wasn’t/isn’t)
I was working with Ana, Enrique and Kasia (Polish bitch) who were torn between finding it hilarious that I had no voice and feeling deeply sorry for me. Ana kept making me tea while it was still quiet, Enrique just mocked me haha, and Kasia took forever to realise but when she did she was like “OH MY GOD, you need whisky!”
I totally thought she was joking, she wasn’t.
Obviously we can’t drink while we’re working, but I turned around to see that she had in fact poured me a shot of whisky and was like “Quick, come here now. Michael’s around (big boss) but I’ll tell you when it’s safe” Then she was like “Ok, no... no... no, GO, no wait no, wait, wait wait wait, GO GO GOGOGOGOGOGO now”. Ha.
It totally didn’t do anything; I just think her answer to everything is whisky.  
I also had Enrique making me hot water and lemon every five minutes. Then Ana remembered her friends Mums herbal remedy for losing your voice. Errr, I really wish she hadn’t. It involved letting onion skins sit in boiling water for about fifteen minutes then drinking it, and eating the onion skin. Admittedly it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, just like, yeah, hot watery onion, hardly pleasant, but I was getting pretty desperate so was keen to try anything.
And I woke up today, still with no voice, and a headache to add to my troubles, so figured it was probably best I didn’t try and tackle work on a Friday night and my boss happily agreed. So here I am! In bed, at 7 pm, it’s greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeat.
Oh oh and! This is the area of Mallorca where I’ll be (if I go, gone back to trying to decide if it’s really such a good idea, hate having these constant decisions to make)
The area is Soller in the North West. Looks pretty damn amaaaziiiinnng.
And to finish off! I left New Zealand four weeks ago tonight :O (my time, anyway) What the hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yeah, what the hell.

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