I’m not going to say they don’t have butter here. That would be a lie. New Zealanders are fully capable of producing butter. It’s mostly used in baking.

I’m not saying I go around eating sticks of butter or anything. That has never happened. I’m pretty sure. But as someone who is just learning to cook and isn’t very good at it yet (I genuinely think things would be going better in that department if someone would give me my own cooking-themed radio program. Like an audio version of Martha Stewart broken up by sections of music, designed to match some sort of theme determined by the food. It would be called Fried Rhymes, obviously) is wont to do, I make a lot of toast. I’m really good at making toast.

And when that toast is done toasting, I’m putting margarine on it. And sure, it’s almost definitely better for my health. And the taste is hardly different enough for me to notice. But I can’t help but feel a little bit cheated.

They also don’t carry Emergen-C here, which is problematic for me as I now have a cold. The closest thing they have is basically a vitman C infused Alka Seltzer tablet. I don’t get heartburn, so Alka Seltzer outside of the context of having a hangover is a little weird to me.

Well, that or having an entire suit made of it

Look, here’s the thing: the rest of this entry is basically going to be nonsense that is only vaguely if at all related to the fact that I am in New Zealand. I have some silly things that I like lying around (stupid list and fake conversations, mostly) and I don’t know where they belong, but I feel like they belong somewhere. Probably not here.

Just in case any of the two people who occasionally read this have a problem with that, here are a few pictures of stuff in my neighborhood that I like:

I live in the bottom half of this.

I live in the bottom half of this.

in the Aro Valley Park/Community Center

in the Aro Valley Park/Community Center

some cat-themed graffiti

some cat-themed graffiti

Okay. Now it’s time for stupid shit.

The other day I was listening to that song by the band “Music is My Hot, Hot Sex” by the band C.S.S. If you don’t know C.S.S., they do fun sort of dance-y music. The lyrics are, 9/10 times, REALLY ridiculous and have something to do with sex or Paris Hilton.

“Music is My Hot, Hot Sex” has a sort of bandied-about line that goes “music is my boyfriend.” It’s one of the most moronic sentiments I can imagine. Least of all because that would cause nothing but problems. And thus:

Problems I Have With My Boyfriend Because Music Is My Boyfriend

1) Boyfriend is almost definitely manic-depressive. He volleys wildly between cheerful and upbeat and depressing and heartbroken.

2) He doesn’t cook for himself.

3) He uses the same single dish over and over to avoid helping out with the other dishes.

4) Not a good listened.

5) Tells embarrassing personal stories in mixed company.

6) Shout at people from across the street to get their attention.

7) Constantly quotes Family Guy

8 ) Takes extra long showers so there is no hot water left over for me.

9) Refuses to let me be the lead guitarist in our Rock Band band even though I shred and he doesn’t.

10) Takes bites directly from the block of cheese instead of cutting off slices.

(Not) Overheard On Set the First Day of Filming for the Motion Picture Juno,  Apparently the Winner of the 2007 Academy Award For Best Original Screenplay

Oh, hey wait a minute. Jason! Jason! I think there’s a typo or something here. I mean I’m not 100% sure but… Well, you know that thing you do sometimes where you’re writing one thing and thinking another? And then you accidentally write down the thing you were thinking about rather than the thing that you wanted to be writing about? Like if I was writing the word “sincerely” but…I don’t know, thinking about lunch and wrote “sausages” instead? Well, I’m guessing it’s just that. You see here? I mean, this sentence is clearly meant to read “Honest to God?” but what it says is “Honest to Blog?”

Do you see what I mean?

So…should we call Diablo, or…?



Conversations Likely to Occur at New Zealand’s World of Wearable Art

I’ll be volunteering at the World of Wearable Art in September. Basically, designers make couture-ish art pieces meant to be worn by models or dancers. These models or dancers then walk or dance their way down a runway to show off the art. I will likely be either selling programs or assisting as a dresser.

Carrie is a Dresser, female model or male dancer

CARRIE: Hi! My name’s Carrie Griffin. I’ll be taking your clothes off at various points throughout the evening.



(repeat into infinity)

Carrie is a Dresser, female dancer

CARRIE: So do you know how to crump?


Carrie is a Dresser, male model

CARRIE: Do you face a lot of prejudice as a male model? Do people assume all sorts of things about you?

MODEL: Well, you’ll always get people who assume if you’re a model you’re stupid, or if you’re a male model you’re gay or something like that. But it’s not so bad. It’s not like Zoolander or anything.

CARRIE: So do you have any other talents?


CARRIE: (pause) Did you like Zoolander?

Carrie is Selling Programs, All Instances

(Carrie makes no attempt to say anything or gain anyone’s attention through the whole of the night, sells no programs, and is asked not to return.)

I’ve Repeated This To Everyone Thus Far But I am Very Dedicated To It

This is an idea I have for a film.

Tony Blair, post-his prime ministerial career, enters into a deep depression when he finds himself completely reviled and ostracized by the British public. To piece his life back together, he retreats to the country where, during a late-night fog walk, he is bitten by a werewolf. Imbued with new werewolf super-powers, he must choose whether to fight for good or evil, whether he should protect the society that rejected him, or (literally) bite back.

It should star Michael Sheen as the Tony Blair-wolf. Ideally, directed by Guillermo Del Toro and co-written by Mike Leigh and Nick Hornby.