Got a photo of this sign which is between my work and my bakery:

Man, so only $400,000 each!

I am looking for somewhere to lay my head in Parnell, but the interest alone on a $750,000 mortgage is about $1150/week. Do you earn that much? I do not earn that much. It is quite pretty though. Witness the glaze:

It’s not actually that dark – those of us with crap cameras like to call this “silhouette.”

As per my goals, I’m planning to go flatting in/near Parnell soon. Recently, though, almost every free moment has gone towards my freelance web work, which piles up with astonishing vigour. I find that after the daily crap (work, eating, etc) has been dispatched there is only an hour or two of productive time left, which is rapidly absorbed by email and websites (including this one). Weekends are often no better. At some point you have to make things happen. So last Tuesday night I stayed up until 5am in order to clear some of the backlog. And I did, too, but damn if I wasn’t munted for the rest of the week. I was constantly producing sentences like “we’re having 4 at drinks o’clock” (probably not a good idea in itself).

If you’re ever considering doing some extra work on the side, here’s what you need to do:

1. Take a large bottle of spirits. I recommend Jack Daniels.
2. Smash the bottle against your head.
3. Still think it might be a good idea? Repeat from step #2.

I was struck by another excuse on Tuesday morning. A people-mover, to be specific, while I was waiting at a red light. (I know we like to run the red in Auckland, but while other cars are in the way?). He came up to my window and said something dismissive ending in “there’s no damage to your car.” Given that I was still in some shock (we have no appreciation of how fast our vehicles go until they collide) he could have said “there are elephants flying through the sky!” and I would have similarly answered, “uh, ok.” I got out and checked. There was damage. We agreed to meet round the corner, although he repeated “ok, but really quickly.” I went back to my car. Where were my keys? I had taken them out of the ignition and put them in that little compartment just in front of the handbrake. Of course, I couldn’t remember doing this (or more pertinently, why?). Shock is awesome like that.

So we go round the corner and he hurriedly gives me his name/number, before insisting he needs to rush off and doing so. (Don’t worry – I made a note of his plate as he left. The shock had worn off enough for that.) I called him later and got his insurance details. Hopefully everything will be sorted out with no hassles. What are the odds of that, would you say?

The crazy thing was how this guy seemed so detached from events. He’d just, not to put too fine a point on this, but driven his car into the back of my car, causing probably hundreds of dollars of damage, and appeared to be more worried about getting his delivery through on time. As if this was some everyday issue of no import to the all-consuming need to get this job done. Or maybe he really does crash into people everyday. Either way, I think we can safely blame capitalism. Fucking capitalism. Who’s their insurance company?

No damage, mate!

I trust we are all reading Filthy. His latest, a savagery of The Break-up, is fucking hilarious.