KAI NOT CARS

Today we had a potluck brunch which turned into lunch since daylight savings confused everyone.

our kitchen reached max capacity at around 14 people

last week josh shaved his head. this made damo want to shave his head. on friday ronan brought his beard shaver round and attempted to shave damo's head. it didn't work properly so damo was left with a pseudo-hipster cut.

reclaiming the streets. we waved at everyone who drove or walked past and the general public loved it

the menu consisted of scrambled eggs, pancakes, potato fritters, toast, lonely onion, couscous salad, baquette, lettuce from our garden with robyn's salad dressing, pizza bread, crossaints and james' lamb fry

woodham was pleased his pancakes were well received

ollie with blonde hair

Great success!

A CHALLENGE

For many months now, our flat Spaghetti Junction and our friends' flat Toulouse Crew have been casually battling for a broken kitchen bowl called The Prize. Our flats are very close to each other so each flat tries to take The Prize from the other and hold it for as long as possible. There are a few rules however:

1. The Prize must always be on display by the flat that is in possession of it (you can't hide it)

2. If you take The Prize but are caught with it whilst still on the property of the current host flat, you must return it.

(For the origins and history of The Prize, see here.)

as you can see spaghetti junction currently has The Prize

\

I say casually battling above because for the last few months there has been no incentive to steal The Prize other than for bragging rights and general flat pride. However, I have devised a new plan which will turn the game from a light-hearted romp to a frenetic high stakes competition. From the 1st of August (which is tomorrow), a tally will be kept of what flat holds The Prize at the strike of midnight each night. At the end of each month, the losing flat will have to provide a shared kai (dinner) for both flats at their own expense. Therefore there is a slight consequence to losing The Prize for a long period of time, yet the consequence isn't all that bad and actually fun for both flats.

Not all members of Toulouse Crew have accepted the terms of the arrangement (they are still open to editing if necessary) so this post is a great challenge to every inhabitant of Toulouse Crew. If Toulouse Crew don't accept then we can claim some sort of symbolic victory and feel happy/kinda disappointed.

Last week Ronan tried to steal The Prize from us. He parked his car in our driveway and put The Prize on his car's roof so that he could grab it as he left. But he hadn't anticipated that the vigilante Myself was on cooking/cleanup duty that night so I saw The Prize when I went outside to put the organics and recycling out and reclaimed it. Ronan is certainly going to have to up his game if he wants any chance of ultimate mana.

Ronan (pictured left) was here again tonight so spag junx was on high alert.
He has safely left now (without The Prize) so provided we can hold it for another 24 hours and 20 minutes WE WILL HAVE OUR FIRST POINT!!

Back in Ōtautahi

Ronan and I are back in Ōtautahi Christchurch after 5 days in Melbourne and 3 days in Sydney. Our Australia trip was exponentially awesome and we plan to write a few blog posts detailing this over the next few days/weeks!

\Unfortunately I got unwell (sore throat/asthma/aches/cough/temperature) in Sydney and was still overheating on the plane back home so my ears hurt a lot as we came in for landing. They still hadn't popped back to normal by the time I went to bed several hours after returning home so I wondered vaguely if I would ever regain normal hearing or instead remain locked within an underwater audio world.

luckily i did not remain a merman and my ears popped overnight

I was pleasantly surprised to see that my bedroom hadn't been obviously tampered with considering that Jocelyn and Sophie had borrowed my bed for several nights while I was away and I was expecting some sort of trolling from my friends/flatmates (Ronan wasn't quite so lucky however as Woodham and Damien rolled his socks together in mismatched pairs and turned all of his jackets inside out in his wardrobe). In saying this, I have only been back for a day so far so some insidious trick may be biding its time to reveal itself.

this was the biggest change i could notice in my room....i guess i'll be dancing now 

In our lounge there was a much more brilliant/terrifying surprise however:

bringing new meaning to the contemporary "deadline"

Two Saturdays ago myself, Scott, Matt and Tom did a six hour rogaine (think orienteering over hilly farmland) and Matt drove us there and back. Because of this, we all owe Matt $10 in petrol money. I had thought that I had already given Matt my contribution, but it seems that both Scott and I hadn't which led to him creating this threatening chart. Matt practically lives at our flat so had been adding a bullet for each day we default on our payments (each tiny bullet has a tiny piece of blu-tack on the back). As a result of this chart Scott and I now plan to deliberately withhold our payments until after the deadline so that we can experience whatever hell Matt has in store for our insolence. It is going to be great!

Yesterday was my first day back in Christchurch and unfortunately was not very productive because I had two loads of washing to do but stupidly tried to do them as one which broke the washing machine and took hours to fix. I also had to post a letter and spent ages skating around the post boxes around the neighbourhood only to find that they had recently been cleared for the day.

did get a sweet sunset though!

As a last resort I biked to the postshop on Riccarton Road, only to find that it had been gone since June the 19th in preparation for a shift of premises. So I biked back home and posted the letter at the post box 50m from our house (to be cleared tomorrow...) Semi-Success!

There was also a new restaurant open on Riccarton Road which was nice to see...It seems that some buildings are gradually pushing their way through the bureaucratic mess of crumbled city choked in red tape (For a fairly extensive personal write up on the aftermath of the February 2011 earthquake that hit Canterbury, see here)

some movement

Scott and Woodham had been painting since I'd been away as well which is great; our lounge table now has a tablecloth (sheet) to make it look ultra fancy and has a pretty legitimate looking painting setup now as well. 

Woodham finished this awesome political piece yesterday

The traffic light is a recent Woodham addition as well

Scott also did several cool paintings as well, but they're in his room which he will surely reveal on the blog soon enough.

While I was away the spag junx lounge acquired two new chairs and finally a couch too! Before I left for Australia Rosa's brilliant mother contacted me saying that her friend was giving away a couch for free so Woodham picked it up and got two chairs as well. All three items are comfy and have square arms ideal for extra seating/drink balancing, though we may attempt to spraypaint them to add some colour. 

josh demonstrates how easy it is to moe in one of our new chairs whilst damo blisses out on the couch and i sit in the old chair so it still feels appreciated

Last night Josh, Ronan and Damien went to a Ladyhawke gig at uni and came back triumphant. They had jumped a fence after the gig, met Ladyhawke herself, had a good chat and got photos with her. Ronan celebrated by putting on his newly purchased poncho and allowing Scott to persuade him into new and exciting food combinations.

Scott claimed to have a breakthrough in sandwich invention: cream cheese and apricot chutney. Ronan was initially hesitant but quickly ordered a second serving. 

Here is a Ladyhawke song in case you haven't heard her yet (NZ indie pop):

Josh and I both proudly rocked secondhand Swanndris and are planning to start a club/gang based on this concept

We also met Confused Skier Scott last night

Will see you soon with most likely some Australia photos! 

NJOY

NJOY

NJOY

THE PRIZE

I live in a flat called spag junx. It contains five humans: myself, Scott, Woodham, Damien and Brad. Very close to us, a mere 5 minute walk/3 minute skate/2 minute bike away, is a flat called Toulouse Crew (at least, that was the name a few months ago, I'm not sure if it's changed since). In that flat lives Ronan, Ollie, Nathalie, Gina and Nicola.

they may look nice but they are brutal!

here is a wonderful map

One night, towards the end of summer a few months ago, I brought some of my Super Soakers to spag junx. The arsenal included 1x CPS 1500, 2x CPS 1200, 1x CPS 2500 and 1x CPS 4100 (anyone born in the late 80s/early 90s should feel waves of nostalgia upon seeing such beautiful machinery).

who wouldn't be intimidated by this?

It was quickly decided that we should assault Toulouse Crew with our unbeatable arsenal. Since it was around 10pm I decided to give the enemy a chance, so sent a text to them saying "PREPARE YRSELF". We would find out later that upon receiving that deathly message Toulouse Crew placed itself in immediate lockdown; they turned all of their lights out and hid in Gina's room with torches. Jars of peanut butter were placed at various strategic chokepoints around their flat (I am allergic to peanut butter).

It was at least another 20 minutes before we set off towards Toulouse Crew along Route #1. This was partially because we all had to get changed into suitable clothing for such violent conflict. We also had to fill up the water bazookas and then test shoot them and marvel at their magnificence. These acts of preparation gave us a huge psychological advantage over our enemy as they undoubtedly cowered in terror inside their palace of siege.

We walked with confidence to Toulouse Crew around 10.30pm. It was a warm summer's night; a night for extreme water warfare. Toulouse Crew has a super wide gravel driveway in front of their house with cars parked sideways, a park to the right and neighbours in the front left; all of these things played a part in our confrontation. Here is an accurate war diagram for those of the visual inclination:

First we installed intensive fear in our enemy. We went to the park, and shot at their upstairs windows from behind the fence. Loud screams could be heard from inside. It was clearly working. Then, suddenly, the screams turned into dinosaur shrieks. This was Gina's battle cry. I instantly remembered hearing that same cry many times during high school, and the terrible events that would follow such a noise. Fear leapt into my heart.

We gathered on the Path for Feet and decided on a new PoA (Plan of Attack). It was decided that we would creep along the right bout of the gravel abyss, using the parked metal boxes as cover. The gravel underfoot was a great obstacle to our quest, but we were silent warriors. We were highly trained in gravel locomotion and gruelling military operations. We snuck up to the front door of Toulouse Crew with absolutely no issue whatsoever. But then we had a problem. It seemed that the enemy had evolved highly advanced security systems. Their front door was locked. We had not anticipated such a setback. We had underestimated the enemy. They were obviously highly adaptive and artfully defensive.

A new plan was in order. We spread out around the perimeter of the flat, then sprayed their windows from all directions. The front door opened, but closed before we could get inside. Again, the front door opened, and a jar of peanut butter was through out into the driveway. I recoiled at the grenade and fled around the back. Then, the front door opened again and a human emerged. It was Ronan, topless. The sight of his bare chest was a weapon in itself. He wore swimming togs on his lower human half. And he had a popcorn bowl, filled with water.

imagine this man running at you. terrifying. 

Someone yelled "Ronan, out front!" Immediately the men of spag junx converged on the front door, pummelling Ronan with harsh bouts of water. But Ronan did not care. He seemed invulnerable to our onslaught. He pointed at me and charged. I shot him with my CPS 2500 on its 10x nozzle (403ml per second) but he continued charging. Ronan had finally completed the transformation into a raging bull, transfixed by my fire engine red water cannon. Finally he reached me, dumping a full popcorn yield of water on my human body. I was soaking. He then ran back indoors screaming victory. We retook our positions around the house.

Soon the door opened again and produced Ollie and Ronan, both topless, dressed in togs and both armed with bowls/buckets of water. Again, our vicious streams of water bore no deterrent to their pursuit, and we were quickly running out of water. I yelled "RETREAT!" and ran back down the driveway towards the park. My loyal comrades followed me. As we approached the end of the driveway we were met by a terrifying surprise. The door of their neighbour's house opened and a third topless screaming man emerged with a bucket. Now we were truly scared. We did not know this human and he was running at us with fire in his eyes.

We were sprinting for our lives now, up the park towards the playground. We fanned out in all directions, attempting to wade off the three men with our pathetic streams. It did not work. They got three of us with their waterbuckets, then Ollie and Man-Neighbour retreated back to their respective houses. Spag Junx found a tap at the park; we refilled our water guns and prepared for the Second Encounter. Ronan re-emerged and begun trying to refill his popcorn bowl at the tap too. We spied him and got him good whilst he was refilling. I changed my nozzle specifically to 20x and got him square in the back with 684ml of water in a single second. He loved it.

this is what ronan and ollie looked like by the end of our battle. so very wet.

We cornered Ronan and took his popcorn bowl. Defenseless, he eventually ran back to his flat after receiving some serious water and we followed. Again we spread out around the perimeter. I was around the back of the house when Ollie opened the toilet window, saw me, shrieked and flung an entire bucket of water at my face from a mere metre or so away. It hit me straight in the eye and I was immediately blinded. Back inside, Ronan had grabbed a ceramic bowl to continue his kamikaze mission. He attacked us in the garden and I grabbed the bowl after he had dumped the first load on Woodham. A tugging war ensued; the bowl slipped from both of our hands and fell to the grass, somehow breaking into many pieces. Everyone stopped. A collective "ohhhhhh" arose. Ronan blamed me for the mishap even though it was clearly his fault.

I picked up the bowl pieces and brought them to the sliding door. From the other side of the glass Gina looked angry.
"Did you just break the bowl my mum got me for my birthday?" she asked. I gulped and tried to explain myself. Luckily Gina was just trolling me; it turned out the bowl was Nicola's but she wasn't upset that it was broken. A stalemate was declared and we all discussed the hilarities of the conflict. There were many hearty soup laughs.

Since we were wet and cold we walked back to spag junx, but before we left we grabbed the popcorn bowl, a jar of peanut butter and the broken pieces of the white bowl as war prizes to make us feel like we had won.

a clear victory?

HAIR ONLY WET FROM SHOWER

Woodham suggested that we glue the bowl back together so I gave him some glue and he spent a considerable amount of time painstakingly glueing it back together before adding a layer of duct tape for extra hardiness. We cut out the words "THE PRIZE" into the bowl to make us feel better about our defeat and took victory photos.

The Prize clearly denotes Victory

The Prize stood proudly on top of our microwave for several nights. Our spirits were high during that glorious period. But then Nathalie and Ollie came over one night to watch a movie and unceremoniously stole The Prize without us knowing. Needless to say, spag junx wept nonstop that night.

And thus, the game had begun. The objective is to secure The Prize for as long as possible without letting the other flat steal it. We have established a few rules for the game however:

1. The Prize must always be on display by the flat that is in possession of it (you can't hide it)

2. If you take The Prize but are caught with it whilst still on the property of the current host flat, you must return it.

There have been many memorable thefts of The Prize. Here are a few:

- On the 31st of March Toulouse Crew had The Prize. I was there with a group of eight or so, playing Chinese Pictures for the first time. I stationed my skateboard outside, came back inside, grabbed The Prize and quickly skated back to Spag Junx (this was before we established the rule that if you were spotted stealing The Prize then you had to give it back). As I arrived home my flatmates were just heading out to another party. We were all very happy. I then skated back to Toulouse Crew to see that my courageous escape had been documented in a round of Chinese Pictures (which I have somewhere; will post when I find it)

- Back at Toulouse Crew that same night, Ollie asked me if he could see my keys. I gave them to him without thinking. He immediately ran to the door to run back to our flat and re-steal The Prize. I grabbed my skateboard and followed him. He went Route #2 whilst I went Route #1. I was worried because I knew that my flatmates had gone to a party so The Prize was completely unguarded. Luckily  I got to Spag Junx before Ollie did and Scott was back there anyway. I congratulated Ollie for his smart attempt at re-taking The Prize but was pleased it did not succeed.

- Later on that same night, Ronan and Ollie came back to our flat after we had gone to a few parties. We went on Skype in my room in an attempt to talk to Rosa, and Ronan slipped out of my room, locked Woodham and myself inside my room (my room already had an awkward external lock on it when I moved in) then grabbed The Prize and gave it to Ollie who biked it back to their flat. Ronan then finally let us out of my room and we learnt of the crushing news.

- On April the 10th it was my birthday so Spag Junx went to the local fish and chip shop to order kai. We stationed Brad and Woodham to collect the kai whilst myself, Damien and Scott walked to Toulouse Crew. We made Damien hide out the front of the house, then Scott and I went inside to find Ronan pottering around in the kitchen. We pretended that we were planning on going to Washington skatepark that night, and invited him to come. He then went into his room to show me a flight card he had got in the mail. I quickly darted to the kitchen, grabbed The Prize off the top of the pantry, handed it to Scott who dashed out the door and handed it to Damien who walked silently down the drive. We were so quick that by the time Ronan came back out of his room Scott and I were standing there as if nothing had happened. We then said that we'd better go pick up dinner so left, struggling to keep our expressions normal. Damien was waiting at the end of the street with The Prize and we celebrated all night. Best birthday present ever!

- On the 14th of April we had our second flatwarming with The Prize in our possession. With all five members of Toulouse Crew attending we were careful to guard The Prize at all times. At one stage Ollie and Nathalie managed to take The Prize from under our noses and hide it in our front garden near our recycling bins so they could grab it later when they left. However, Woodham noticed that The Prize had gone and went on a search around the property with Daniel to find it. Daniel found The Prize and Woodham put it around the side of the house, leading to a very confused Nat and Ollie when they tried to find it later. Technically this was cheating but the stakes were too high to place it back on the microwave.

- Eventually Toulouse Crew managed to steal The Prize back from us. I mounted many solo missions to their flat to get it back, but was always discovered before I was safely off the property. One time I pretended to leave their flat, then climbed back in through Ollie's open window. Ollie had lots of ornaments on his windowsill so I was careful not to stand on these as I made a jump to land on his bed. While the windowsill items remained safe, my foot got caught in the curtain as I jumped, and the entire curtain came down with me, including the curtain rail. This meant that my attempt to quietly re-enter the house was utterly ruined and I spent the rest of my time there apologizing and trying to fix the  curtain rather than stealing The Prize.

- By the time I had my 21st birthday party on May 12, Toulouse Crew was in possession of The Prize. During the speeches they presented me with a shoebox containing The Prize. I initially thought that they had created a second fake prize but it was actually legit. Of course, by the end of the party they had stolen it back. I screamed with agony.

- A mere few weeks ago, James and I made our most daring play yet for The Prize. It succeeded, and was such a significant event in The History Of The Prize that it deserves its own post, to be written soon.


Toulouse Crew is currently in possession of The Prize. But not for long.

as you can see, spag junx is in a general state of unhappiness without The Prize...but not for long

Shorter Stories in Shorter Lived Snow

We had one short day of snow fall. The next day we wrote shorter stories out in the melting snow. All times were good. What do you think of these?

7/06/12

Outside sitting in the snow edition

Location: School

Last Sentence: “The world is not always a forgiving place, but sometimes it is.”

Object: Fish

Authors: Scott Allan, Damien Taylor and Regan Stokes

Scott

The kids swarm to their classes, a mad rush under the drone of the bell. It pierces their thoughts and all turns to mayhem. They swarm, slide and squish past each other like fish escaping fishermen nets. The chaos feeds the puffer fish, he watches through his office window in great delight. “A bunch of fools”, he thinks, and he glides back to his desk. A mountain of paperwork, but the puffer fish accepts this; it is worth it. Now he is 

the puppet master, he has the control and he has the respect.

A small child knocks nervously at the door. His eyes weep, his parents will be furious, he has never been in trouble and he stands waiting at the principal’s office. The door creaks open and the puffer fish waits grinning. His hair sleeked back greasily and his eyes were wider than golf balls. The kid, a mere tadpole, starts to cry. He didn’t deserve this. Outside, the other kids sweat, dreading their time in the puffer fish’s cove. Screams followed by whimpering, they can only imagine.

The puffer fish loves this moment, he now has the power. He ponders how he shall punish the tadpole. His spikes protrude out sharply. He strolls over to his cane, still grinning like a madman. Gripping the cane firmly he makes his way to the pathetic whimpering tadpole. Its eyes look up towards the glorious fish in mercy, the moment awaits. As the puffer fish raises his cane he stops. Their eyes lock in the duel, the tadpole does not back down. A moment of realisation, clear and beautiful thought, the puffer fish knows he is wrong. The tadpole shows all the features of his younger self. The cane descends as the puffer fish deflates to his true self. His greasy smile turns warm, genuine and true, and a sole tear is shed. The tadpole sighs in relief. The world is not always a forgiving place, but sometimes it is.

Regan

Seven years ago exactly, I would have been eating lunch with my friends at Cashmere High School. By then we would have claimed the back of W Block as our social territory, or at least part of it as a group of Year 12s had already established the space as their own. They played hacky and sometimes smoked behind the bushes. Since we were only Year 10s they were the tangata whenua so as their guests we respected the area and our two groups co-existed peacefully.

Behind W Block we had our own concrete ramp (complete with eaves to huddle under in the rain), a sprawling tree to lean our bags against in the summer, the external part of a sawdust machine to sit and rip our shorts and skirts on, a grass area large enough to play a small game of football, and a row of trees that lined this grass. It was these trees that inspired the game of High Stakes Football.

High Stakes Football involved taking turns kicking the ball as high as possible up into tall trees. It was a perfect game because you cannot lose; the ball either tumbles back to earth or lodges itself in the branches, with both of these results usually producing a round of cheers from all participants. If the ball was stuck, the general sequence of events that followed was:

      

      1.       Throw another object up at the tree to dislodge the ball. This was usually another ball (upping the ante further) or someone’s schoolbag.

      2.       If approach #1 failed, send someone (usually Tom) up the tree to collect the ball.

Year 10 (2005) was a significant year because I:

       ·         Discovered The Pixies, thus opening up my musical appreciation to a new and great variety of bands

       ·         Watched Fight Club for the first time

       ·         Had several interesting relationships

       ·         Made many close friends

In our Y10 maths class there was a goldfish kept at the front of the classroom. One day the goldfish was gone. Our teacher was upset and told us that a student had flushed it down a toilet. I think I was shocked at the time, but a dull kind of shocked like it didn’t affect me as much as it should have. This is why I write this story. I am sorry, poor goldfish, for your fate at the hands of humanity.

I went to a school of fish from 2004-2008. The world is not always a forgiving place, but sometimes it is.

Damien

Tena Koe bro. My name is Matthew Gibson Kahurangi, but you can call me Tiu (short for Matt-chew). I’m getting up and going today. Gonna make it to school. It’s hard when I wake up, no one cares if I get ready or not. They’re just hung over from last night. Must be my day today; found five bucks on the ground, and got me a Osler’s pie on the way to school. Mean breakfast. I don’t like coming to school; none of it is important. But I like to see the people. Nothing would happen otherwise; I would just stay at home. I go from class to class when I’m here, but they want me to learn this confusing stuff that has no value to me. The white boy gets it though. He always knows what old Ball-head and White Witch are talking about. That would be mean; to know. I like that boy, he’s crack up. Kind of just funny. He aint like the other bros. Have some jokes with him. Some of the others don’t like him cause he’s smart and white and that. But he’s cool. He could be Maori if he wants. There’s another person I like too. Nan. She’s awesome. Always looks after us and the little fullas. She’s real smart too. Knows about all that stuff we don’t learn at school. But, she don’t want me to leave school. I could get heaps of money working at the docks. My uncle works there. Has to be there at 6 in the morning and work hard till 3pm, but he’s gotta mean Holden. Always shouting down at the pub too. I wanna do that. I think I will leave soon, but don’t wanna disappoint Nan. I know she knows what she’s on about but I’m sure she would want me to help with money and that. Yeah, that sounds right. I’m gonna do it. I’ll save heaps then buy a heatpump. Nan would never be cold at her house again.

...............................................splirchz.........................................piff........................................................

...............................................splirchz.........................................piff........................................................

...............................................splirchz.........................................piff........................................................

...............................................splir......

Fhark. I stop and think. That was an interesting day for me then. And now. These fish don’t have a say, ae. They just get scooped up and taken here. Then I take this knife and stab their guts, then throw it in the drum. May be life is easier that way; no choice. I look at the metal box with fans on the wall and think. The world is not always a forgiving place, but sometimes it is.

snow city

On Tuesday night I cooked a jungle curry with the help of Matt. It included every vegetable that the jungle has to offer. That evening it started raining so after dinner I dropped off Damien, Ronan and Josh at the Ghostface Killah gig at uni then went to Catalyst open mic poetry (I read some haiku from my school zine and Doc offered me some money for a copy!) I then rushed home to pick up a sled from my mother's house since it was scheduled to snow today.

Last year there were two separate bouts of snow in Christchurch. Gina lent me her toboggan so Nick, my sister and I went tobogganing on an empty section in Cashmere. It was action-packed; here is a nostalgic video to prove this!

Nick and I ended up buying a cheap sled last year after the second bout of Christchurch snow, but there was no more snow that year so it sat unassembled in the garage of mum's house up until Friday night. You can imagine how excited I was when I heard it was meant to snow on Saturday!

THIS EXCITED.

Once I had acquired the sled on Friday night I went to work as I had a sleepover shift from 10.30pm. As I went to sleep I thought of this Thom Yorke song.

I slept well at work (no visits from the police thankfully), woke at 7am and saw that the ground had a light layer of snow. I later learnt that the school I've been posted at for teacher training this term was closed for the day due to snow, allowing me some extra time to test out the sled. I drove back to spag junx after breakfast and attempted to save our vegetables and herbs which have been recently relocated to the top of the carport.

A genius plan from Woodham since the back garden gets almost no sun

To save the plants I had to put a stool on a piece of snow-covered wood and carefully  climb on top of the stool to grab the pots. The two plastic containers with lettuce in them were too difficult to get down by myself so I wished my lettuce buddies good luck in the cold. I did save three pots of herbs however before the stool started sliding too much on the wet wood and I decided it would be best quit early and save myself from imminent paralysis.

Funnily enough, our spinach/lettuce/brocolli seedlings in the back garden had no snow on them since they were protected by an overhanging tree. I put a tarpaulin over them anyway for when the snow would eventually fall down off the branches. The fact that our backyard is sheltered from trees in all directions finally paid off; our vegetables would hopefully survive because of it.

As the morning drew on the other humans in my flat finally began waking up to discover the snow. What actually happened was that Damien woke up and ran screaming through the spag junx which woke up Scott and Woodham (Brad is a Sleepysaurus). Woodham shifted his car over so I could fit Bug under the car port as well. I grabbed the sled out of my car and Woodham and I put it together in the lounge.

box!

complete!

success!

Spag junx had run out of milk and someone had an idea to buy ingredients to make self-saucing puddings that evening so we left Brad to man the fort and set out into the snow to go to the dairy and then supermarket. I brought my camera and filmed the next NZ viral video sensation:

When we uploaded the video later we shared it widely in an attempt to get it on the 6 o'clock news but sadly this failed. It has had 456 views in 24 hours however which makes it our second most successful viral video (after Maddie's infamous Pokemon Card Dudes).

Naresh the dairy owner asked to borrow our sled for half an hour to use with his wife and daughter so we left it at the dairy for them. I joked that he should give us milk discounts for our kindness and he said that he wouldn't kick us out of his dairy the next time we came in drunk (note: this has never happened before). As a result of this banter/sled-sharing the relationship between Naresh and spag junx has reached new heights (this was actually discussed in a D&M later that night).

Damien and Scott then went to the supermarket whilst I walked to Ronan/Nathalie/Ollie/Gina/Nicola's flat with James and Woodham. Nathalie, Nicola and Ronan were there so we warmed up for a bit then walked back to spag junx with Ronan in tow. We went via the park and dairy to pick up the sled (Naresh gave us a free bag of chips!)

KEEP OFF the snow playground!

bubble fountain still had detergent in it from the weekend previous

After devouring the chips and a round of HOT DRINKS at home we went to Riccarton Bush. The plan was to walk through the native bush enclosure which would look amazing in the snow.

Scott wore shorts and ankle socks for some strange reason

On the way we met some kids who were forbidden to go outside their property (stranger danger? extreme snow danger?) so we battled them briefly with snowballs. They stood with their heads bobbing over the fence and were good at dodging but not so good at throwing. They didn't want us to go when we continued onwards; it was sad that they weren't allowed outside of their property considering they were at least 12 or so years old.

Riccarton Bush entrance (recently paved, more recently snowed)

We got to Riccarton Bush to discover that the enclosure area was closed due to falling trees. While we were there we heard tree branches snapping and crashing so we left and went to uni with the sled in pursuit of hills. There were a few steep slopes around the carpark but they were unfortunately very short. Matt met us at uni and we went down the library stairs on the sled which was fun, though I sadly bailed at the end due to ultra-high speed and soaked my pants. We were considering trying the big hill near the bookstore even though it was in an area cordoned off due to falling trees. Just as we were about to defy authority and go over the rope we heard a huge crack and a massive branch capable of killing a human fell to the ground in front of us. This put us off attempting the big hill. 

Woodham, Ronan and Matt went back to Matt's flat to go to the mall to get hot kai. Scott, Damien and I went to Ilam fields and had a game of snow soccer with some other students. It was very difficult in the soft snow, but snowballs were a good addition to the sport.

Once home we got warm, made HOT DRINKS and stayed in for the rest of the day. Here is a video of many of the day's events:

More photos!

happy vegetables this morning!

Don't 'Chuck' with Me!

It was bound to happen sooner or later. But, I must admit, I nae thought it would be I who would cause this tragedy.

"A'ight, spit it out."

I've been gracing the nation's capital for nearly two months now, and it's become common practice for my flat to indulge in the glories of dizzy-water and hat-time in the weekend. We have two young families living on either side of the flat and I've been expecting something to come along and rustle their feathers for some time. But surprisingly, we havn't had any complaints from them about our debauchery.

However, this all changed last week.

Following tradition, my flatmates and I indulged in a few cases of delicious dizzy water and the smokey-timbre of hat time. I had been mega-poor (and I mean almost resorting to escorting poor) for about 3 weeks and so thought this an appropriate occasion to drown my sorrows and have some fun, and thus I was taken out by the wily combination. I don't remember much of the night, but I do remember crawling into bed, and then violently chucking several minutes later. Oh, yes, good times. After wiping my jowls, I fell blissfully into the land of nod.

"Does nae sound too bad, y'whiny sod, we've all been there!"

Aye, aye. Any good bastard has chucked decently after a fitting night of debauchery. But the tragic events occur the next morning.

I was awoken at around 9.00am to the sound of the neighbours hosing down their driveway. They were occasionally spraying my window as if to say "Hey, wake up!" I followed their orders and after gathering my thoughts realised their means; I had failed to find a vessel for me to chuck into and instead opted to open my window.

The window leads out onto their driveway.

It couldn't have been pretty.

It soon became all too apparent that the gentle splashings of "Hey, wake up!" were in actuality the violent lashings of "Hey, fuck you!" I pulled the blankets over my face and hid from the hangover and the neighbours.
I awoke properly a few hours later, and the guilt of my act had only manifested into a mega-hangover. I knew I had to apologise, but was far too weak to do so in person. So, created an image of apology in photoshop and hoped that the mild-humour and sincere apology would heal the wounds I had created. I stuck the picture to my window facing out to the neighbours, and awaited their response.

This photo has been reversed for your reading pleasure

"Wow, you're a bit of a twat."

It took until around 6.00pm for their response to materialise. It's something that I hold as a bit of a trophy today.

But how did they find my secret hideout?!

Beaming brightly from the outside of my window was this lovely reply of
"I understand but very hurtful!
Next time I call police.
I know where you live..."
Like I said, I quickly took this from outside of the window as a trophy before it was either gone to the elements or the neighbour's retracted their acceptance of my apology. It puzzles me as to whether the threat is legitimate or nae, but regardless it's still a funny scenario and one that I will proudly look back on as a lesson of how nae to be an utter twat. After having a wee chuckle (with utter respect, of course) at the letter I spent the rest of the night making delicious choc-banana muffins. Mayhaps I'll drop some off to the neighbours as a goodwill gesture next time I get baking.

Don't follow in my footsteps, peeps.

Much love!

- Nick

DAMIEN YOUR LIFE IS IN DANGER

This is Brad's room. It is small. 

 

This is Damien's room. It is larger than Brad's room.

 

Brad has placed a trap in Damien's room in an effort to kill Damien so that Brad can have Damien's larger room. 

It is a sneaky trap as it involves Damien stepping on his clothes thinking they're just clothes but actually it's my skateboard which leads to Damien's own cooking knife....Therefore the prime suspects of the inevitable murder investigation would be myself or Damien. So watch out Damien, this post was written with your interests at heart!