From Gloss:

“Yeah, our drummer Tim is really keen on playing party drum beats. We wanna make music that is danceable and fun, but lyrically I write songs that are slightly depressing…”

There’s another short review on The Guardian.

I can’t find their (fantastically dry) lyrics on the internet (should I try Wolfram Alpha?). Bought from iTunes though, so let’s start transcribing:

Fear of Opening My Mouth (yes, they’ve got The Fear)

Told my boss I hate him
At the Christmas party
That was before
A work colleague slept with his wife

(Sing it)
If I’m still a telemarketer
Next
Year
I think I’ll end my life

Man, why is no one singing about telemarketers? I know so many people from high school onwards who took telemarketing jobs they hated every second of because the pay was $12/hour.

All Your Friends Are Rats (my favourite)

I think all your friends are rats
They smile through their teeth
They belong in the sewers
Because they talk down to others
And I can’t even
Look them in the eye
Let alone make some forced conversation

Don’t
Go back on what you said
You said you wanted me in bed
But I wasn’t that good
Honey we can get through this

But getting back to what I said
If I could
There’s something
You should know…

…and the big finish:

All! Your friends
All! Your friends
And their friends! And their friends! And their friends! And their friends!
And their friends! And their friends! And their friends! And their friends!
Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats!

This song actually has a great dance groove.

Which brings us to the best part of publishing a post like this: I can now sit back and wait for the insults to roll in. Your favourite band sucks!

GP Pies official website

And a very small website it is, so here’s the menu (thanks BlackBerry!).

So as you can see, the restaurant is basically just a pie warmer. Patience, comrades! The empire cannot return in a day. Besides, I had a Steak’n Cheese pie, and it was delicious. What more can you ask?

My concerns are twofold; firstly, the simple clumsiness of it. You either spend half the conversation staring at your screen waiting for words to come up (which, sometimes, never do), or you’re forever switching in and out of the conversation – making for very poor conversation. I guess if the words came up in real-time, without people having to commit each sentence, that might be less dysfunctional.

But my real deep hatred of it comes from the dehumanising divorce of sufficient physical interaction to feel any kind of social connection. It’s common for people to type lol without their mouth so much as twitching. That’s a PhD right there. I’ve had some quite serious, quite personal conversations on IM, and the ultimate result was emptiness set in 10-point Arial.

Having said that, I do have Skype at work. Handy for sending URLs around.

A Manurewa girl goes to Social Welfare to register for child benefit.

“How many children?” asks the assessor.

“Ten” replies the Rewa Hard girl.

“Ten?” says the Welfare worker.

“What are their names?”

“Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, Nathan and Nathan”

“Doesn’t that get confusing?”

“Naah…” says the Rewa Hard girl, “Its great because if they are out playing in the street I just have shout ‘NATHAN, YER DINNER’S READY!’ or ‘NATHAN GO TO BED NOW!’ and they all do it…”

“What if you want to speak to one individually?” says the perturbed Welfare worker.

“That’s easy,” says the Rewa Hard girl… “I just use their surnames”

A North Shore girl enters an adult shop and asks for a vibrator.

The man says: “Choose one from our range on the wall.”

She says, “I’ll take the red one.”

The man replies: “That’s a fire extinguisher.”

Q. Two Mangere girls jump off a cliff. Who wins?

A. Society.

Q. What do you call a 30 year old Glenfield girl?

A. Granny.

Q. Why did the Otara girl cross the road?

A. To start a fight with a complete stranger for no reason whatsoever.

Q. What do you call a Manukau girl in a white tracksuit?

A. The bride.

Q. What’s the first question during a Papakura quiz night?

A. What you looking at?

Q. What does a Grey Lynn girl use as protection during sex?

A. A bus shelter.

Q. Two Mangere kids in a car without any music – who is driving?

A. The policeman.

Q. What’s the difference between a boy and an avondale girl?

A. An Avondale girl has a higher sperm count.

Q. What’s the most confusing day in Panmure?

A. Father’s day

I met her at the Civic. I’d been Holden up in a bar all night. As she walked in, I looked her Rover. I thought she seemed Familia, but that was just a Mirage. She came up to me of her own Accord. I said Audi.

She told me she thought I was Galant. I lied to her and told her I was an Executive. I was just being Calais. She was quite a Starlet, wearing a nice Mini, but not like that of a Hunter. Her name was Sylvia and she was a real Trooper.

I’d drunk a few Coronas when I tried to Impreza. She told me not to Porsche it. I told her I wanted to Lancer. Turns out she was an Escort, so by her standards I wasn’t that Ford. I didn’t want to pay, she said you don’t know what your Nissan. So I paid. I took her back to my place or HQ as I like to call it, I had a Bighorn and, of course, I was an absolute Legend.

Later, when there was a Prelude, I went to see if there was any food left in the Lada. It was a great night, but I really should have worn a condom because you see, I left her with my Legacy… a little Bambina.

I couldn’t even hold that many.

Merry Christmas, y’all. Have a safe and happy holidays (don’t be a hero).

Update: Two photo sets have been uploaded – Pete’s Wedding: Roadtrip and Pete’s Wedding: The Eponym.

Most of these guys and this chick roadtripped to the popular holiday destination of Palmerston North for the aforeblogged joining in holy matrimony of webmaster Pete and a chick who may or may not have the nickname ‘Mega’. The itinerary was packed because now people have Real Jobs holiday time is valuable, don’t cha know. My car, armed with the full Reticent crew, set out early, trailblazing for the capitalists.

After a couple of false starts (Dave: Go to Shore City so I can buy a CD! Dunc: Go back to my house so I can get my camera!) we set out at 2pm. Having said that, it was a worthwhile purchase, Muse + amp making a killer combination. Weather was mixed but fine enough to enjoy some really glorious scenery (take a picture!) that appeared once we had escaped the withering grasp of the ‘Tron. Destination uno was Whareroa, a village (I have difficulty with this term – am I the only one who imagines horse-drawn carts and blacksmiths?) that suddenly appears over a rise after much driving to the west of lake Taupo. We heartily recommend a stop at Mangakino (even though our directions didn’t) on the way, for a rest at the lake/river, a feed and some merchandise at Bernie’s fush’n chups (Bernie’s cap, anyone?) and a house for only $36,000 (Handyman’s Dream). We went to the dairy to buy bread and milk, and forgot the milk. We remembered the bread though.

Bridie’s bach, generously entrusted to us, was teh awesome. After we spent 15 minutes in gale force winds finding the key (note to criminals: don’t bother) we entered a place so well kitted out it had a breadmaker. Dave was especially hungry, so made his dinner first, using both pots and putting them in the sink, because he’s cool like that. However we agreed the Dairy Whip spread we had bought was excellent, basically like spreading liquid dessert onto bread. We played Backwords, a really cool game which we didn’t play for very long because i want for you to fail and me to succeed and Hannah’s brain was hurting. Then the evening descended into a vulgar orgy of decadence and depravity and I elected to retire shortly after. Meanwhile, from his bedroom, Dave screamed something unintelligible at us (probably a permutation of ‘AHH!’, ‘SHIT!’, and ‘NO!’).

Sleep was an elusive mistress that night. The first few hours were like being ensconced in lava. Eventually I passed out from the heat. Not very long after I woke up shivering, chilled to the marrow. And that was it. Night #1: about 3 hours sleep.

We (well, they) rushed up and formed the inaugural 2 hour bathroom queue. We leapt into the cars to travel to Palmy, only to discover my car had no power, a very bad sounding engine and upon investigation, no oil. I had not got around to checking my oil before leaving. I suggest you do not make the same mistake (sorry everybody). Hannah drove me to somewhere like Tokaanu to buy oil from a rather sour petrol station attendant, who held onto my change as collateral against me stealing their (dirty, skanky) funnel. After we had all stood around the open bonnet distributing free advice, it was Turangi for lunch and road for desert (ha-hA!). Crappy driving and navigating ensued (I blame the whole thing on Ray. Fielding, man. What were you thinking). Dave arrived at the wedding rehearsal only 10 minutes late, and only 4 hours 10 minutes after we had planned to be there. But it was good, because the rehearsal would not start for some time due to people even later than us (an occurrence as rare as a solar eclipse). We headed back to our massive sleeps-at-least-9 motel room. There was a dispute about whether it was better to watch The Olsen Twins: When in Rome, or to switch the TV off at the wall. I have a very clear policy about watching the Olsen twins: lesbian, or No.

Someone suggested we Enhance Our Driving Experience © with walkie talkies. So Ray and Hannah procured some, which cost about $9 each but had a purported range of 80 metres. Alright! Except there was a screw over the battery compartment and my screwdriver was too large to fit. (Although people managed to almost ruin the screws trying. Well done, guys.) So Dunc prised them open with a knife, and I shoved in the screwdriver and then by the power of leverage (and weakness of plastic) we snapped them off.
Dunc Are you in?
Me Yeap
Me …Actually, never ask me that again.

We gave them a test. I walked outside the hotel room.
Me Can you hear me?
Ray Kzzzzzzzzzz…
In fact they were only any good if you were within about 5 metres, i.e. close enough to talk without converting your voice to electromagnetic radiation. I have them now because no one wants them. Do you? Send an email to uselesspiecesofshit@hotmail.com.

We celebrated my birthday at Cobb & Co, which was on a tier below its Auckland counterparts, but we did enjoy the food. One of the puzzles was to make as many words as possible from the letters of SPECTACULAR. Since it was seemingly endless (CAT, CATS, RAT, RATS…) we thought longest word would be more challenging, and I promptly took it out with SPECULAR, and was promptly told that that was crap because I simply removed 2 letters (looks more like 3). Well, eat me. SPECTRAL, ACCRUE, ASPECT, SPACERAT.

Hannah and the dudes made me a birthday cake (thank you!) from a chocolate fudge cake and some lexicographically arranged candles. Dunc, who was not in on it, asked why Hannah was going outside (she was in fact attempting to light the candles with her car cigarette lighter, which turned out to be a lot more impossible than it sounds). Hame and Ray said she was smoking. Dunc looked disturbed for a short while, then said ‘Hannah doesn’t smoke!’. ‘She does now!’. Dunc continued to look disturbed until the matter was resolved. We spent a little more time lying around watching TV – the drug of the nation – and headed to bed.

But not before the appearance of our guest for the evening. Probably because of the crappy Palmerston weather, a slug had entered our hotel room (note we had selected this room primarily on the basis of price) and was making slow but inexorable progress towards one of the beds. I shared with the group my horrible premonitions of waking up to find Hamish missing and a massive slug sliming its way out of the room. Hame eyed the slug nervously.

I had drawn the extremely short straw and was sleeping in the same room as Dave. Again, he had beaten all of us and was asleep already when I entered the room with great trepidation. Sure enough…

Dave sat up in his bed.
Dave AHH! ARGHYYARGH! NO! ARGH!
I had been given instructions, and I followed them.
Me Dave!
Dave calmly What?
I was not prepared for this response. Somewhat taken aback, I clung to my Advice.
Me Ahh… you were dreaming!
Dave Oh. Righto.
And he lay down and went back to sleep. I kinda sat there and stared, as if to say what the fuck, man, what the fuck.

It was actually all very well planned out. That was not long after midnight, when I was just beginning to drift off to sleep. Well, not anymore, but an hour or 2 later I was just about to fall asleep again and ARGHEAG! MMORHMN!. It was now getting late. Another hour or so passed before I finally fell asleep. MNAGHG! AMHMRNHG! AAAAGANAGHA! Night #2: 4 hours sleep.

Pete cruised by early in the morning, as a pre-wedding get-together, because he’s into those. (Mornings. Weddings too, though.) He spent his last hours of freedom lying around with us watching The Hulk (fair enough too: Jennifer Connelly, you know). However we also headed out to Palmy for some brunch. A word of advice about Palmerston North: it is always cloudy, raining or windy, probably all 3. We found a nice place and enjoyed a pleasant, maple-laden meal. Then Car Reticent pulled an awesome we’re-not-from-here when trying to leave the car park building without prepaying for parking. We got stuck between the unrelenting boom and the car behind us. Ever patient, I was seriously considering slamming the accelerator to the floor and ramming through the boom. How dare you charge me to park in Palmerston North! Dave was the lucky one who ran out to the prepay machine waving our ticket, “Sorry! Really sorry!”

We went back to the motel to pretty up. I even shaved, for what it was worth. Dave started hitting on us. We quickly moved on to the wedding, which unfortunately had to be shifted to the indoors plan B (see previous paragraph, ‘A word of…’). The ceremony was quite short but very cool. Pete was beaming, but that was nothing compared to Megan, who looked like she was on drugs (like, I mean this in a good way) for the entire day. As an aside, song #2 had a totally uncatchable tune. We blamed this on the Protestant movement. However it all went well, no one objected to their union and no one stood up at the wrong time.

While the Important Persons had photos, we went back to the motel and lay around watching TV. Then we headed back for the reception. After 16 hours of speeches – so long I fell asleep and woke up the next day and they were still going – our end of the table got wasted on non-alcoholic grape juice (sad but true). Our table was the last get dinner, further proof that Palmerston North are jealous of Aucklanders. (We were ok with this, because one day we will own all of you. Ha. Bwaha! Muahahaha haha haa!). Word up to the MC, Pete’s oldest(?) brother, who we were very impressed by. Oh yeah, and this guy made a speech too. Bokka!

There was no throwing of the bouquet so we had to sort it out between ourselves. It was unanimously decided that Hannah – who is inundated with a constant stream of suitors – will be the next to get married (2 or 3 years time), and I will be the last (if ever). As the night drew to a close, we left and returned to the hotel to lie around watching TV. I put it off as long as I could, but eventually I retired to bed. WIBIBINNGHH! Night #3: 6 hours sleep.

As the deficit passed 10 hours, we got back in the automobiles and headed to Napier, amongst more wonderful scenery. (Definition of wonderful scenery: hill and other hill. Take a picture!). We stopped at Dannevirke for Subway. (We are sans Hame by now as he has flown home in order to Aussie it up for New Years). Dave, claiming complete innocence as always, offended someone.
Sub girl #1 Do you think I’m silly?
Dave No!
Sub girl #2 She’s not silly!
Dave fumes, ‘why me?’

We reached Hastings Napier and hit Marineland. Dolphins are very clever, can jump very high, and sealions (seals? Dunc will know) can outrun a man over broken terrain, despite having the gumpiest style of locomotion I have ever seen. Seriously, they make Jar-Jar Binks look good. Maybe it relies on the man breaking down with laughter and then the seal comes along and flaps at him ineffectually. Anyway, me and Dave made what I think was our only non-food purchase of the trip, footing two-fiddy each for a piece of Gwen Stefani. Tick tock! A bit of Napier sightseeing (nice place), $2 for a big bag of apricots and peaches, and a meal at Andy’s (who hocked us up with a giant chicken feast from the Hot Chick where he works) rounded out the evening.

HannahRayDunc went hot pooling. Only $6! Auckland sucks. DaveDave watched a Paul McCartney tour video, including the song Jet (make a note, this is important later). It was cool aye. The evenings discussion included Glutnix’s Post ([NSFW example]) and [NSFW something like this] (there are many variations on the domain).
Ray Are furries like when people dress up in animal suits and have sex?
Me Kinda, but not really.
People consider this new information.
Me So… Ray, where did you get that from?
Ray Oh it was in this movie I was watching once.

Later, when we have all gone to bed…
Dave Jet!
Me quietly Are you awake?
Dave Yes.
Ray Why did you say that then?
Dave Say what?
Me and Ray kinda just stared, like what the fuck, man, what the fuck. Night #4: 7.5 hours sleep. But it was a bit late by now, you know? I didn’t really care anymore. Only Auckland could save me now.

After lots of careful persuasion (”Hey – we should not go to Rotorua”), we decided to not go to Rotorua. That and apparently the Luge is a Rip. We drove to Taupo, which basically means we went all the way up a hill, and all they way back down. Tunnel!, I say. We had lunch and checked out the SuperLoo. Dunc was very disappointed with his Apple and Cinnamon Bun, which turned out to be a raisin bun, and his Spinach and Feta Loaf, which turned out to be yuck. Meanwhile I was impressed with my Creamy Peanut Satay KFC Sub.

By now we had all had enough of sub-million cities and towns, and Dave remarked ‘No reason to relax now, lets fang it back to Auckland’. So we did, and to an excellent soundtrack of Lemon Jelly, defeated such foes as Grey Bitch, Blue Van (definitely a sleeper), and Team Beca. In fact in one inspired moment, towards the end of an overtaking lane, I carefully eased off the throttle so that Hannah was not able pass the car I had just passed, forcing her behind them until the next passing lane, which would allow us to open up a substantial lead. Impressed with my own cunning, I turned to my cohorts for praise:
Dunc You could have gone faster then aye.

We reached the Shore and refuelled again, bringing my total fuel bill to $137 (compared to Car Beca’s $110).

So. Some good times, good wedding, good music, Schedule From Hell. And I helped plan that too. On the bright side, at least I have learnt something: never again. Photos to follow, except our whole website is broken (haven’t ya heard?) so don’t be holding your breath now.

knee boots with high heels…

Your blog posts are insightful. I will take them into deep thought and consideration. Your point of view is very smart and intellectual. Charlie…

Deep thought? Charlie, you’re a legend.

Note: the comment was actually blocked by Spam Karma 2, as is all my spam. Thanks Dr Dave!

Catch them all!