Attractive Gingers


Yes, here it is. Another ridiculous blog post about nothing in particular.

This week’s post is inspired by my good friend, Tom. Tom and I have been friends since uni days, and we still mantain contact via various social networks.

A couple of days ago, Tom asked me what my next post was going to be about, and I said I didn’t know. I thought about hunting out the pictures of last Friday’s meal, but, to me it seems so long ago now that I just can’t remember many details. Note: It may or may not also have something to do with how stonking drunk I was that night.

So, instead, I’ve decided to write about Gingers. Attractive ones. Inspired by my lovely friend Tom, who is himself in this rare breed. (Along with several of my other friends, actually. Especially Kat, who manages to be Ginger AND German AND hot. I don’t know how she does it.)

I’ve always had a bit of a penchant for our redheaded cousins, even if they don’t have souls.

Here are my top 4 famous ginger hotties. I would list more, but my windows are steaming up.

Hot Ginge #1

Rupert Grint

I love Rupert Grint, and have done even since he was 11. Luckily, at this time in his life, I was also 11, which makes me not a paedophile. Thank you very much. He is glorious. Look at him.


Hot Ginge #2

Christina Hendricks

Woah, Mama. If there’s one thing to say about Hendricks (other than ‘Dat Ass’) it’s that she is one super hot flameheaded temptress. If Emma Stone ever falls out of my favour (God forbid) then I think I might like to be Christina.

I’m not actually a lesbian, regardless of what these posts might suggest.

Hot Ginge #3

Prince Harry

Yep, so, William’s been married off and destroyed the dreams of thousands of women everywhere… no big deal. Hazza is still on the market. Chelsea, Smelsea, is all I have to say about his on-off love interest. Move aside, love.

Oh. Hi there.

Hot Ginge #4

Alyson Hannigan

Yay! She’s ginger, she’s hot AND she’s funny. She gets extra points for the last one. She’s also one half of the ultimate couple-that-dreams-are-made-of: Marshall and Lily in How I met Your Mother. Scrumptious.

Miss you, Tom!


Hangover Blues


I’m too hungover to write anything particularly coherent today. Seems like a strange day.

I woke up to the sound of the cat scratching and just lay really still for a while, too scared to move in case vomit happened. It didn’t, thankfully, though it’s still touch and go.

I dreamt about Batman last night (nothing dirty, sadly) and this morning I woke up to find there’s been a shooting during a midnight screening of The Dark Knight Rises in Denver. Someday, we’re gonna have to do something about this world.

I was going to blog about my Friday night, because I went to a great Italian restaurant and then chugged a disgusting number of insanely coloured drinks at various Wellington bars. However, I’m going to have to save this post until at least tonight because a.) like I said, I am too hungover to write cohently, b.) Callum took the photos on his phone and he’s gone to work already and c.) ‘what I did last night’ seems like a bit of a dumb thing to write about when what at least twelve people did last night was get shot by some random dickwad and die needlessly.

Fuck you, world. I’m going back to bed.

Hurricanes V Chiefs


I went to see my first rugby match.

Not just my first in New Zealand. My first EVER. It was so awesome.

My friend Sam (see Sam’s Manor) booked the tickets, and after a bit of googling to figure out which team was which etc, I was ready to go.

This isn’t me, but… y’know.

I know the bare minimum about rugby. I know that there are different types, that there are five points to a try, and that Richie McCaw has fantastic thighs. I was worried I was going to be a little lost.

I wasn’t, though. It was surprisingly easy to follow.

You cheer when your team are pushing the right way, you boo when the opposing team scores. When a bad decision is made by the ref, you swear along with everyone else even though you wouldn’t know what a ‘bad decision’ was if it trod on your ankle.

My only trouble came with deciding which team to support. Obviously, my instinct was to go with the Hurricanes, me being Wellington based ‘n all. However, one of my work friends sitting next to me descends from Hamilton, and her screams of “YES”, “NO” and “GAY!” were infectious. I could not decide.

She made a bet with Sam that the losing fan would have to make an announcement over the intercom the next day at work, congratulating the winning team on their success. Needless to say, the Chiefs missed out, and Saturday in the department store was a little bit funnier because of it.


After the game, we went to see our friend Hayley at her birthday party. Hayley has just escaped from the department store because she’s found herself a real job. A job that is actually relevant to her degree. None of us are bitter.

The party was held upstairs in the function room of the General Practioner on Willis Street. We had a lot of fun, drank a lot of booze and ate a lot of cake.

Also, there was a stuffed deer in the bathroom. Made me poo my pants. Luckily, I was in the right place.

Hashigo Zake


I love this bar. It’s awesome.

Hashigo Zake is a cult beer bar on Taranaki Street, Wellington, that has a ridiculous number of beers on offer. Look here… Phew! They rotate what they stock a lot, which is cool because it means there’s always something new to try. One time I had this boysenberry flavour brew, and another time I had one that was supposed to taste like pineapple lumps. I’ve never had a pineapple lump, so I’unno, but I know it tasted good.

Callum and I came here on our first date, and I liked it (and him, apparently) so much that we came back again the following evening. Since then we probably average a trip every couple of weeks, and I always have a great time whether we’re with friends or it’s just the two of us.

My favourite beverage served in Hashigo Zake isn’t actually a beer. It’s Umeshu, which is a sort of Japanese plum wine. It’s amazing. I think it tastes like Christmas. It does taste like Christmas. I can’t really describe how or why that is, so my best advice is to try it for yourself.

I’ve never actually eaten at Hashigo Zake, but I hear they do amazing pies. Mmm, pie.

Anyway, everyone in Wellington should go here. Just don’t sit on the squishy chairs round the corner from the bar. That’s my spot.

Check out their website here.



This is the soundtrack to my life.

It’s really stupid.

Early Days

In my early days, I was warped between classic 90s pop, an unspeakable love of Madonna (I also thought Gwen Stefani was Madonna for a while, hence ‘Don’t Speak’) and the 80s music compilation tape my mum got me for no apparent reason.

The Spice Girls- Spice Up Your Life

Madonna- Evita (Not sure why Evita was my Madonna song of choice growing up. I never saw the movie.)

Steps- Last Thing On My Mind

No Doubt- Don’t Speak

Beautiful South- Rotterdam

S Club 7- Reach

Billy Rae Cyrus- Achy Breaky Heart (My dad used to sing this a lot. It stuck.)

Crystal Gayle- River Road (Unsure where this came from, but I always used to sing it when I was planning to run away from home after I wasn’t allowed a second bag of sweets.)

Bon Jovi- Living On A Prayer

Real Thing- You To Me Are Everything

Sandie Shaw- Always Something There To Remind Me

Sort of Madonna-looking, maybe?

High School

High School was a mix of catchy pop and trying to be cool. I mostly failed.

Blue- All Rise

Shakira- Whenever, Wherever

Maximo Park- The Coast Is Always Changing

The Killers- Mr Brightside

Sum 41- Fat Lip

Kelly Clarkson- Since U Been Gone

N.E.R.D- She Wants To Move

Imogen Heap- Speeding Cars

Incubus- Drive

The Strokes- 12:51

The Libertines- Can’t Stand Me Now

Basement Jaxx- Good Luck

The Subways- I Wanna Hear What You Have To Say (This and some of the others can be largely dedicated to my first boyfriend, who I still blame for warping my view of relationships forever.)



Many of these songs were the staple ‘last songs to be played on a Wednesday night at Liquid’ types. After a full year of drunken nights there, those songs will stay in my mind forever.

Flo Rida- Low (To be played AT LEAST twice a night at Liquid.)

The Killers- Mr Brightside (again)

Pendulum- Propane Nightmares

Bon Jovi- Living On A Prayer (again)

Pearl Jam- Alive (Another boyfriend memory.)

Bright Eyes- First Day Of My Life

Kanye West- Stronger

Rihanna/Jay-Z- Umbrella

Kings Of Leon- Sex On Fire

Black Eyed Peas- I got A Feeling

Dizzee rascal- Bonkers

Kings Of Leon


Best and Worst moments of my life happened here. Amazing, adrenaline-rushing, I’m-exactly-where-I’m-supposed-to-be-and-I’m-gonna-live-forever-weeeee! times, with added deep-pit-of-despair-plus-hangover-what-have-I-become times (mostly lying in the foetal position on my bed).

Crystal Fighters- I Love London

Amy Winehouse- You Know I’m No Good (RIP etc)

Jay-Z/Alicia Keys- Empire State Of Mind (At The Flowerpot. Every night.)

Beyonce- Single Ladies

The Waifs- London Still

Stars- Your Ex-Lover Is Dead

Frank Turner- Long Live The Queen

The Smiths- This Charming Man

Biffy Clyro- Many Of Horror

Tina Turner- Proud Mary (To be screamed with Isobel.)

Mumford and Sons- Winter Winds

Maria Carey- All I Want For Xmas Is You (Tuffnell Park Xmas and the best food fight, in the world, EVER.)

The Maccabbees- Love You Better

Still Amazing

Flying Away

Not been away long enough to build a good list, but Laura sums it up pretty nicely.

Laura Marling- Goodbye England (Covered In Snow)

Ahh. Bitter-sweet nostalgia.

Shakey Shakey


Okay, so NZ was just hit by a 6.5 mag earthquake. Geonet is telling me that the epicentre was about 60km west of Opunake, and was felt as far as Christchurch. Here in Wellington, our (already precarious) bookshelf did a little dance, and I was ready to poo my knickers.

Right, so, not huge news I guess, when you think about what’s been going on down in Christchurch for however long now…

Errr… HELLO?! The earth SHOOK under our feet. A whole COUNTRY just SPASMED.

This shit doesn’t happen in London. The ground is not waiting to explode underneath your feet at any God forsaken moment. (Unless, you count terrorists, that is. Pesky terrorists.)

I’m just not used to it, okay? How, at one minute, you can be chortling away to joyous internet based pleasures such as this, and the next minute be rudely awakened to the horrifying fragility of life and the unstoppable bad-assedness of Muva Nature.

As it began, Callum and I just looked at each other in silence for a few moments.Then, I noticed the bookshelves starting to shake and got ready to do my best impression of a panicking moron.

I was completely torn between the almost-overwhelming need to put on a pair of pants (in case a frantic, Godzilla-esque ‘running out into the street’ episode was in order) and throwing myself under the bed screaming “Goodbye, cruel world!!!”

As it happens, I did neither of those two things. I simply shut my laptop (why?) grabbed Callum’s hand (cute) and let out a puppy-ish whimper (pathetic).

And just like that, it was over. Callum got back to his video game, and I joined the rest of the population to begin the inevitable facebook status orgy of “Earthquake OMG you guyyyz”.

I fucking admire New Zealanders and their Blitz spirit attitude towards Earthquakes. I’m just not used to a natural disaster being a serious threat. People here just go with it, laugh about how scared they got, then continue on with whatever they were doing before the ground beneath their feet decided it was time to have a little boogie.

For a few minutes I thought how ridiculous it is that this sort of thing happens so regularly over here, and that everyone seems to feel just dandy about living underneath a ticking time bomb on a day-to-day basis. I thought it was silly that people just brushed over this freakin’ near death experience.

But, really, when it comes down to it… what else is there to do? Other than to wear your best underwear and a motorcycle helmet at all times, which I am strongly considering.

You sit tight, you wait for it to pass. When it passes and you haven’t died; you laugh about it. You’re thankful for another day without ‘The Big One’, and you carry on with life as normal. Probably, you watch this again.

Goodnight, cruel world.

5 bullshit travel myths that you should just shut up about


1. You are going to ‘find’ yourself on your travels.

Seriously, you are much more likely to get lost. Probably as soon as you arrive at the airport. Anyway, you really should know who you are before you embark on an international flight. Otherwise, you may find yourself having problems at customs.

For example:

Customs Officer: ‘Name?’

You: ‘I don’t know. I’m hoping to find that out on my travels.’

You’ll have a sniffer dog poking your anus in no time.

Sure, if you do enough stuff, then you’re certainly going to broaden your mind through experience, but don’t just fly away because you think you’re going to fall into some kind of Eat Pray Love scenario. More likely is that you’re going to get drunk a lot, do some things that you regret, maybe build an orphanage or two, but then fly home with the sinking knowledge that, actually, you knew who you were all along.


2. You are going to get thin from being constantly on the move and being too poor to eat properly.

Not in my experience, matey. Not having much money for food/having no kitchen to cook in equalled one thing for me: junk food. Sweet, DELICIOUS junk food. I put on, like, 6kg. I have since moved into a proper flat and have lost the weight once more (praise baby Jesus) but, still, definitely busted that myth by putting it to the test.

Also, even if you are poor, not having a job while you travel results in more time spent lounging around/thinking about food. Some days I’d go and get a burger just because it was the cheapest activity. Enter chubby Emma stage left. Gross.


3. It’s brave to travel

Shut up. It’s not. You get on a plane and then have a lot of fun not really doing much. It’s brave to save a baby from a burning building, not to go on an extended holiday.


4. It’s even braver to travel solo.

Nope. Sure, you have to sort out all the tickets, visas, how to get to your hostel from the airport etc when you’re going it alone, but you also don’t have to worry about catering to other people’s (inferior) wants and needs. If you’re travelling alone, you meet a hot guy and want to stay in town a few extra days? Stay. No one’s forcing you to move on. You think it’s a great idea to get as drunk as is physically possible without dying and then wake up naked on the beach with vomit all over your tits? Do it, you’re never going to see anyone who was there ever again. You just better hope they don’t find you on facebook and post all those photos they inevitable took. Nope, travelling solo isn’t brave; it’s selfish. That’s why I like it so much.


5. You’ll keep in touch with everyone back home.

No, a lot of them will quickly forget you. And what the hell is that making you angry about? YOU left THEM, remember? Most of the important people will stay in touch, of course (it’s unlikely that your mum is going to forget your name) and most fair-weather friends will simply evaporate. However, there are usually a few surprises either way. There are a couple of people I considered to be really close friends before I left, who I haven’t heard a peep from even though I sent them emails. I also a have few random not-so-close acquaintances that I still chat to at least once a week. Some people are just better at keeping in touch than others. Some people like you a lot more than they let on and, hell, some people like you less. Don’t be offended. Life goes on.

Anyone have any more to add to this? I can’t be bothered to think of any, right now, and five is a nice round number.