I feel ill

The virgin wedding is in full post dinner swing now, the DJ is on to "Hotel California" so obviously starting the wind down process.

I have just been investigating the wedding cake. The current trend is badly undercooked mud cake with the standard white icing, but between the layer of icing and cake is not marzipan but chocolate ganache.

I only had to look at the cake to know I wasn't going to touch it, but I have just gorged myself silly on the ganache.

I don't think I could face chocolate again for ...ooohh...at least 24 hours!

fuk, Fuk, FUK #3

At this point I am so ready to slash my wrists.

I am in the final count down for the party of the half century and too many things seem to be conspiring against me, I am sure I will go into total meltdown before the actual day.

Oldest and dearest bought me a new tv/stereo unit for my birthday to house all my components tidily. I picked it up last night and somehow managed to fit it into the car, the box was actually wider than the car, but you know, woman on a mission. I then invested 1.5 hours of my life putting it together this morning, the instructions were very scanty and at one point it was looking very much like ending up as firewood.

Once construction was complete (with only 2 bits left over) I attempted to slot my amp and other bits in only to find that spaces for them are TOO SMALL. I then launched into advanced level of meltdown, flatmate has not witnessed this before and was cowering on the back deck. Now, the advertising propaganda that enticed me to purchase this unit showed a massive tv sitting on top and a dvd/video in one of the underneath spaces. The only measurements given are the full external ones, so one assumes that as the picture shows a component slotted in therefore they will fit. Misleading advertising is my call, and I can't deconstruct it to take it back as it has these funny screw lock thingies that I can't get out. I have already visited the website to lodge my complaint which I will be pursuing with a vengeance.

But wait....there's more......once I'd stacked everything on top of the unit and put the stereo back together and switched it on I found that the right hand side of the amp had spat the dummy. The level of meltdown I then went into totally eclipsed all before, flatmate felt the need to go to the backyard and check her washing. A quick switch of wires confirmed it was amp and not speakers, so then I tried an old technician trick, give the amp a bloody good shake. Voila....sound came out of the right speakers. So now I know it's got a dry joint somewhere but no volt meter or soldering iron to go and explore with, so I guess I'll have to ring a fix it boy since baby AV Techie dyke is STILL OUT OF THE COUNTRY.

Good news, my lovely speaker repair man has fixed my mid cones and they are on a courier home already, however when I soldered the last speaker cone back in I returned the work soldering iron to the Chief Engineer personally, and now he has lost it. My best boy engineer has said he will loan me his own personal soldering iron, but it sounds so high powered I fear what damage I may do with it.

Meltdown

I had a little meltdown when I arrived at work yesterday morning as the upright piano had not been moved, as was clearly stated on the run sheet. I used the F word and many negative comments about peoples ability to follow clear instructions. The piano was now trapped, and part of the set up in the room it was in would need to be dismantled in order to move the piano to where it was meant to be.

However, silver lining and all that, I had quite a chuckle later on when the crew went to correct their error. It took 5 boys to move the piano, now this is a piano that I can move with the help of only one other.

I'm still debating whether to mention the words "wheel locks" to them.

The weekend.......sort of

Well the weekend away was very eventful in many unexpected ways, and here are a few pictures. The Desert road was perfect, snow everywhere, little melted snowmen lining the side of the road, it didn't matter that the sun wasn't out.

Tokaanu hot pools, absolute bliss. I was going to put up a naked lesbian in a hot pool photo (for DPF to link to) as I figured out how to work the time delay thingy on the camera, but as I'm now banned in some countries I will keep it decent.

Oddly, for some reason, charades was not the party game of choice after dinner.

We also managed some post dinner dancing of the true people contact and fancy footwork kind, courtesy of one of the couples who have been taking lessons and passed their skills on to us.

As you can imagine with 7 women in a house and lashings of alcohol there is naturally gossip. Sadly though on this occasion it's not the type of gossip that I can make a funny story of or even want to write about so in this instance the "no kiss and tell rule" will apply.

The house is beautiful and I urge you all to book it and spend some time there, it truly is right on the lake. There is also a great path on the Taupo to Acacia Bay road for running so I managed a 5k run while I was there.

I do look forward to a return visit.

fuk Fuk FUK # 2

Recently after months of dithering I had the mid cone in my right hand speaker fixed, though I had got quite used to the sculptural aspect of it sitting naked on top of the speaker. This involved screwdrivers, soldering irons, couriers and credit cards. I needed to ensure it was done before the up coming party of the half century, and apparently there was no one in Wellington who could fix it.

In an effort to recover from some aspects of this current weekend I felt the need to play some fave tunes very VERY loud to relax and ponder with, but now I find that BOTH mid cones in the left speaker have spat the dummy. fuk, Fuk, FUK.

I wonder if I could somehow convert the child's hair straightener into a soldering iron thus saving a day in the whole fixing process. I am going to have to speak very nicely to the Mr Speaker Repair man in Auckland tomorrow to get it sorted in less than 10 working days.

( the upside is that I get to play with the soldering iron again, possibly not to be encouraged)

Cinderella WILL go to the Ball

Or more to the point, unpclesbian will go hot pooling. I dragged my sorry arse to work the last two days and I'm now feeling well enough for the trip. The inside of my throat however has been stripped raw from the excessive acid of all my vitamin C consumption, not that I'm obsessive at all, but I used all mediums, pills, juice and raw fruit.

I am of course now praying madly to the weather gods, as I see Turoa has the most snow cover ever, but I'm not concerned about the piste, my worry is will the Desert Road be open!!

The plan is to drive up midday tomorrow, and I hope the weather is as stunning as today as I think the Desert Road is one of the most interesting scenic roads in the world, the only one to surpass it would be the drive from Keflavik Airport to Reykjavik in Iceland. I do wonder though that since the road gods managed to turn the infamous Mangaweka road into a straight one, why they haven't worked on the gullies at the northern end of the Dessert Road.

First stop after that is of course the Tokaanu hot pools, private naturally. Go ooh ahhh at the size of the trout swimming under the bridge, then a delicious soak in the pool, and weather depending the obligatory walk round the micro thermal trail.

After that on to Taupo, meet the rest of the house party then beer, food, wine, gossip and fun. Saturday will have to be De Bretts, though oddly here I prefer the public pool, I like to laze under the bridge by the water fall. Saturday night a repeat of Friday but with a different menu, then back home on Sunday, with another visit to Tokaanu on the way.

I fear on my return it will be a double session at the gym to attempt to remove some of the quadrillion zillion calories I will have consumed over the weekend. Also, as NSBG is one of the house guests I'm sure there will be some stories to tell.

Five go Mad on the Mountain

Well eight really. I have been so looking forward to this coming weekend. The arrogant bastard has loaned us his Taupo property so we can have a weekend of apre skiing, he's so good like that. I do recall though the last big dinner we had at his Napier property, and hope that if there is a wine cellar at Taupo that it has a very sturdy lock on it.

I'm not actually participating in the skiing section of the weekend as I can't really justify spending the child's NCEA fee's on eating snow, but right now there is doubt if I will attend at all as I have a nasty boy germs cold. What is it with the male of species, dying of lurgy yet still stagger into work for morning briefing each day to spread the germs around then leave, fuck me that's what cellphones and webmail are for. So right now when I should be planning menus and all the luscious things I am going to cook for 8 gorgeous women, I am instead in bed having hot feverish dreams of people I don't want to dream of. Nightmares really.

I will be most disappointed if I don't make it as I have 2 years of hot pools to catch up on, I intended returning looking like a prune, and I also don't want to miss out on the company of this group of women as fabulous food, wine, laughter and international gossip is guaranteed. I am turning orange from all the vitamin C I have ingested.

Sign 'o' the Times

Last night was a lesbian dance event which I usually attend, but as I was working, very short of funds and wanting to save my liver for next weekend I was ummming and ahhhhing about going. The child then informed me that she was going to an under age party at the venue next door, so I said I'd stop in at my event for a quick beer and a gossip then pick her up. She tried to have a moan saying her event didn't finish till 1am, but had to concede to the consensus that if she wanted to go at all she had to leave when I said.

Finally about 10.30pm I rocked up got a beer and started chatting and catching up with some women, had barely (sic) started my beer when the child texts saying she'd bored, when am I picking her up. Grrrr, now I wasn't ready to leave! A bit of quick thinking on the part of the organisors, get child, give her some maccas and then left her sitting on door duty with door girl, who used to be her nanny in the past.

I did manage a wee bit of socialising, and as is the way was having a pleasant evening and didn't want to leave, but I could feel the child's sighs of boredom from across the room so had to depart.

Hmmmm, I wonder if this is the start of an odd new phase, tho I do confess that as I was wary of possible scathing child criticism I did not dance and spent all the time chatting, as I do recall when I was the same age watching my Mother dance.

Vital Statistics

As many of you know Mr Farrar over at Kiwiblog linked to my gym photo post yesterday with some interesting tags. I've now taken down the post and yes, yes, I know Google cache, blah blah, never gone. I'd said that he could do it as I was interested in seeing the results. As expected the traffic was staggering totally eclipsing the record set by Cactus when she linked to my dating post.

However in this blogosphere it's not just about site hits but also about feedback, and on that count Cactus wins hands down as 3.34% of her readers left a comment whereas only 0.176% of Kiwiblog readers did.

Now in my world this just proves that those who read Cactus are intelligent communicators who like to publicly discuss ideas, whereas Kiwiblog readers are just a bunch of perverts who will click on any chance to look at porn online.

I must say though DPF, on many fronts it was an excellent tease and to use the current irritating secretary vernacular - love your work.

Addendum: David, I've just had a brilliant idea, for the next tease I think we should do a duo shot, that is, you and I on some gym challenge (of my choosing of course). Think of the fabulous juxtapositions those pics would have. I'm game......you up for a challenge?

New Desktop

As said I am finally taking Jillian off my desktop and replacing it with this little beauty which came from Dorothy Surrenders, she seems to get her hands on some very good images. This is the second time Ms Lennox has graced my screen, the last time she was in a suit (funny that) with red hair.

As you can see the muscle picture is still up, I'll leave it there for another day because it makes me laugh, and also because someone (or someones) at Les Mills has felt the need to look at it many many times.......does that mean you're making me a special deal so I can come play at your property on the weekends?

Open Letter to Les Mills

Dear Les Mills,

Now I know you'll be reading this because you usually log on about an hour after I blog with your name, such efficient little tracking robots you have. Well I just wanted to say that I'm IN LOVE with your Extreme property in Wellington.

I managed a visit on Saturday and started in the Cardio theatre, total bliss. I guess I am truly getting in touch with my inner rock chick, though I did find I had to resist the urge to keep changing speed so I could stay in beat with the music as it turns out not too many tunes have a beat of 10k per hour. All you number crunchers out there, go on, give me the equation to turn km per hour into BPM. I don't understand though why the cardio theatre is predominantly empty, then when you go out to the main floor all the cardio machines there are in full use, with nothing interesting to watch.

After my run I went and did a pump class. The instructor was a lovely boy who kindly spoke with all of us novices before starting. I was pleased to see I hadn't forgotten how it all worked, just forgotten what weights to use, and totally blanked from my mind the dreaded squats and lungey things. Owwww........I don't usually do weights for my quads as they are large enough already, so I am still suffering today. The lovely instructor boy also touched base afterwards which was a nice touch.

I tried to go again on Sunday, but after wasting 20 minutes trying to find a park I gave up and went to my gym and put all the tv's on VERY loud with C4 and made my own cardio theatre.

So now my darling Les Mills reader I want to figure out how I can get you to give me weekend access to the Extreme property. I can't come mid week as it just doesn't work, but weekend access would be lovely. I have also realised that my next two weekends are very full so I may not be able to get there again before my free months pass runs out.

Oooh now here's a thought, wouldn't it be lovely to have access to 2 gyms, the every day one for mid week visits, and then one for best that I only use on weekends. Most girl readers will understand this concept, a bit like your going out knickers. So please darling reader can you figure out a way to make that happen.

I would even stoop to grovelling, and forgo my altruistic principals and put up an advertising widget thingy if it meant you would let me in.

I eagerly await your response.

Yours
Unpclesbian

PS: Little Drummer Boy, do you think if I posted "THAT" picture it would help my cause?

I Love My Coffee Boys

It's been 2 weeks since I've seen my coffee boys. I yearn for the weekends when I can finally get a yummy coffee and chat with the pair of Dans who are the weekend crew, and it's so sweet that they have matching trimmed facial fur, sort of a house standard. One wonders what a girl would have to do if one joined the crew.

This morning when I ordered my coffees, well actually just said the usual, I coughed slightly. The taller of the Dan's then quickly turned around and presented me with an orange saying it sounded like I needed a top up on my vitamin C. Bless.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I was just clearing my throat as it was a bit clogged and scratchy from drinking most of a bottle of bubbles last night and washing it down with 9 chocolate macaroons. (and yes, that is 3 short of a full packet!)

Well what else is a girl to do while waiting for Jacqui? 

(whimper, now to go and work it all off)

Step, Trip, Stumble

Had decided that I would try for a step class tomorrow at Les Mills (go robots) as I used to be the Queen of step, double stacked platform and high intensity blah blah. I thought it would be a laugh to see if I could still do it without tripping over myself. It seems however that if you want to do a step class on the weekends you have to be VERY keen as they are either at 8.30am or 9.00am, you know, before a girl is fully awake.

I will aim for the 3pm pump class instead with a run beforehand, and see if I can remember how that lot works. Somehow I don't think I'll be taking my usual spot at the front of the room.

The Vanity of Boys

On Friday in Auckland one of my coffee dates was on old boyfriend whom I hadn't seen for about 2 years. In this time he's trimmed down quite a lot, not that he was large to start with, but was very noticeably trim.

When I commented on it he said it was because he'd taken up cycling (ooh, ick bikes, nasty things) and muttered about round the lake and other big rides. When I got back home I emailed him a couple of links that he was interested in and made a positive comment about his new physique.

Out of the blue yesterday I received this email:

Dear Wxxxx,

I know you don't know me and probably never will but on behalf of us all here in Greater Auckland it would be appreciated if you were able to refrain from such comments as Keep up with the cycling, it looks good on you.

Jxxx hasn't cycled for over a month and the last time I rode with him the gentlest incline left him with his lungs hanging out of his ears. He has had a nasty gastro infection recently which may account for his sudden weight loss.

He is quite insufferable at the present as you can no doubt imagine.

Kindest Regards

Sxx

Me thinks a certain Real Estate agent has been bleating around town that the Lesbian thinks he's HOT !!

Gym Review

In my few days away I did manage to get a work out in, and yes at Les Mills. (ooh their little tracking robots will be going overtime now!). I went to the Victoria St property and to be honest I was extremely disappointed. My only prior experience of the Les Mills product is the "Extreme" property here in Wellington which I guess is the Jimmy Choo of the brand.

The little girlie at the desk was lovely, and gave me a lock to use on my locker and a brief talk about the gym. She said there was a women's gym but I explained I usually trained with the boys and only wanted a run and a circuit, so she pointed me in the right direction.

I got changed and had a wee wander round finally finding the treadmills and the "circuit". I decided to run first. My lunch companion had told me she was doing another 1/2 marathon soon, the first in a few years. I realised that the one and only tri I've done was in another decade so decided that I would do the 10k race next month and start training NOW, so jumped on a treadmill and started running. All went well until I hit the 20 minute mark and the machine slowed down and I spent the next 5 minutes fighting the speed control until at the 25 minute mark it stopped completely. Doh! It then dawned on me that they were programmed for 20 minute workouts only. Battled the controls again and got it going and finally managed to complete 8ks.

As an aside, during cool down we were given a little show by a very buff young woman. The treadmills overlook a large completely empty circuit area and at one end is a stretch space. This girl got a floor mat and a medicine ball and placed it in the centre of this vast empty area and proceeded to do an ab workout, she obviously wanted us to look so by God I looked. I almost blew a psychic fuse by intensely willing her to do some press ups.

I then headed to the circuit and this is where the disappointment started. Call me old fashioned but to me a circuit is 1 weight, 1 cardio, or even 2 weight, 1 cardio, with a timer and a buzzer going off at timed intervals. This didn't have that, it was just a string of weight machines around the room and the only cardio was one mini tramp and a step up box, no buzzer. Change of plan then, back to the boy space.

Had a wander and tried a few things, but it wasn't good. Wanted to do lats but the machines didn't have adjustable seats or pads, so once I'd finally done the mental arithmetic needed to convert kg's to pounds and get the weights right, it was just too uncomfortable use. I then just grabbed a bench, of which pleasingly there were quite a few, and did some shoulders and arms. Saw a cable machine so went to use it but it was so tight against a wall so you could only use one side, and then one of the cables was jammed up in the wheelie thing and wouldn't move properly. By this stage I'd had enough and decided to leave without even hunting down my beloved calf lift machine.

I'm now wondering did I miss something. I had seen a sign pointing to studios1 and 2 but assumed they were for pump classes etc so didn't look at them, maybe all the good stuff was hiding there.

I have been given a 1 month free membership by a friend to use, so my research into the Les Mills brand is to be continued.

Addendum: While I was checking this post I got a phone call from Les Mills the Terrace to make a time to come and see them to activate my trial month......I'm sure there's something deeply meaningful and cosmic in that!

Attack of the X-Men Girls Part 2

So after all the lesbian storm in a teacup of the first part of the evening I then went to K Road to catch up with some other friends and dance a bit. I arrived at the Flirt event but my friends weren't there, so had a wee drink at the bar and waited. I then figured they may be over the road at Family so wandered off to have a look there. It was fairly quiet, but as it was barely midnight to be expected.

Back over to Flirt. When I got there a woman came up and asked if she could introduce me to her friend who had apparently been eyeing me up earlier. She pointed out her friend, and I then very politely asked if she could instead introduce me to the piece of jailbait standing at the bar. She saw the joke, was in the social networking mood and did so. While I waited for my friends I chatted with this group of women, they knew the art of social networking. Then a tune I like very much came on so I had a wee dance, and while doing so I noticed another woman wearing an X-Men long coat trying to dance very close to me. She was wearing the coat not as a costume but as her "going out" outfit. When the song finished and I sidled off to get my drink she suddenly appeared in my face and I found myself being pushed into a corner with her desperately trying to make a move on me. She was nasty, I grabbed my drink and ran out of the club.

The lovely doorman kindly looked after my drink while I went over to Family again, of course all the while forgetting that a new Gay bar has just opened up under the Flirt venue. Had a wee dance with some boys then went for one last look at Flirt. My friends had arrived, they had been in the new bar downstairs the whole time, but shock, horror, who was talking to them.....Nasty X-Men girl.

I cautiously approached to let them know I was there, and tried to have a conversation and catch up with them, but Nasty kept getting in the way. Eventually I had had enough of my space being invaded and went to Family for the rest of the night, knowing that the others would eventually follow.

I then proceeded to party with the boys, and will only give you a short summary which includes being pulled up on to the stage by a strong hot sweaty half naked muscly Polynesian boy and being "forced" to dirty dance, being randomly snogged by some cute young gay boy, (and here's me thinking "hello" was the proper introduction), then when Nasty appeared retreating to a front area table with my new best friends (a designer boy couple) for protection and keeping them amused with my witty incisive commentary on the shaggability of all who passed by, of all genders.

Sometime between 3 and 4 I crawled home. As it was my swansong and probably my last time out on the Auckland gay scene I think I did pretty well!!!

However the next afternoon when I was having a post mortem with Oldest and Dearest I suddenly had a Jacqui Brown moment.......think dream bubbles floating in the air and in them are the images of me the night before, how I saw myself at the time, a hot sexy dirty dancing mama, then juxtapose against that what the image was probably like, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW. I am now living in fear that pictures were taken and am madly checking a certain website to ensure there is no evidence for public consumption.

I also did manage to get out to Te Henga on Sunday afternoon and us girls sat indoors in the lovely sunshine drinking special coffees with one eye on the surf and the other on the Living channel, while the Gentle giant mowed the lawns, played with his power tools and did other boy stuff, before driving us home and organising dinner.

Sadly now I have had to return to the real world.

Attack of the X-Men Girls Part 1

I had a very very interesting Saturday night and along the way ran into two women who were wearing X-Men outfits, though only one was intentional, I now think of them as Nazi and Nasty. Here is the story of Nazi, Nasty may have to wait till tomorrow.

I had been invited by a friend to attend a stag party with her on Saturday night, as said below it was being held for a couple who are getting civilised shortly, and all attendees were asked to dress in Man drag. I didn't as it was a bit last minute for me so wasn't prepared, but it turned out I was the only one not dressed up. Oh well, I coped, had worn the current rock chick faves and tried to channel Chrissie Hynde, but without the hair of course. I tried to convince my companion to take an axe with her to complete her outfit, in hindsight it was a good idea that she didn't.

The evening started off really well and was a lot of fun. I was drinking my bubbles and chatting with all the women there. Several of them had never dressed in drag before and we were discussing how they felt about it. One of them came as Axl Rose, and another of the first timers had a lovely velvety moustache reminiscent of Sonny Bono, her partner had an intriguing blonde one, very well done.

I carried on drinking my bubbles and chatting then the music went up loud and we started dancing, well some of us. At one point I had been out on the deck with the cigarette smokers and was introduced to a woman in an X-Men costume, usual social chit chat, then back inside to drink and dance.

Suddenly X-Men girl was inside and summoned me off the dance floor with Sonny Bono and we were taken to another room, hmmm, interesting I thought, what's going on here?

Censorship it turned out. The X-Men girl then proceeded to point out that they were a close supportive group, that none of them knew me (whimper, I'd talked with every woman in the room so they knew me slightly) and that they'd heard I blogged and I wasn't to write anything about them, and on and on. Sonny Bono just sat in the corner looking uncomfortable. I then ascertained that X-Men girl had never read the blog, had no idea what it was called, and really didn't even know my name. I then decided that she was drunker than I, and her braincells were more rearranged than even I achieve, and just made calming comments to end the moment. I gave her my card and told her to contact me and I would send the blog link so she could see how inoffensive and harmless I am, all the while muttering you fukkin brainless Nazi. I was then allowed to go back to the party.

Axl Rose very astutely got wind that something was up so got me back dancing, and I resurrected my party spirit, finished my bubbles and carried on chatting. After a while Sonny Bono came up to apologise for what had gone down. I made light of it as I saw that she had been very uncomfortable with it. While we were talking another woman, whom I'd chatted with quite a bit earlier on as we had been discussing the hand knitted tie that she was wearing, got in on the conversation. She then started on the "we don't know you" line again, and then banged on about me asking them how they felt about dressing up, and hullooo, here I am being dragged off to the other room again.

So her beef was that I was asking them questions. My initial thought was "it's called conversation darling", that's what people do at parties, talk with each other, tell stories, exchange gossip. Or, in the case of myself where I knew no one, make the effort to talk with everyone in the room, networking, working the room, whatever you want to call it. It's called a "social skill", you can go to classes and learn all about it. People love talking about themselves, and when you are making conversation with strangers ask them a question about them-self and suddenly you have a conversation going. I however kept all this inside and again made all the calming statements handed out my card and said email me and I'll send you the links.

So back out to the party again feeling rather stunned and shell shocked, trying to understand how I got from being a happy drunk party goer who had been talking with every woman in the room and keeping the dancing going, to a confused victim of censorship from people who have NOT EVEN READ one word that I have written.

My escort had had enough the appalling rudeness of these women and decided it was time to leave and take me on to the second stage of my night out. I didn't disagree, though I do wonder why their Mothers didn't teach them better social manners. I do so hope that they contact me, so I can invite them my party and show them the proper way to treat guests whether you know them or not.

I then went up to K Road to meet with other friends and move on to the clubby section of the night out. This is where I meet X-Men girl #2, aka Nasty, but that is a story for another day. I do have the words of a Buffalo Springfield tune in my head which I'll leave you with.

Paranoia strikes deep

into your soul it will creep

starts when you're always afraid

step out of line the man comes and takes you away......