live @ the lounge
Yep, we’re all just ordinary Kiwi folks
Poor me, poor me, pour me a drink.
Wow! 2018. Nearly 20 years since we puckered over Y2K; 40 since we cried over Elvis. I’ve been up north for a few weeks and it’s only been a couple of days since I rolled into Titirangi … my ribs are killing me! Boom, boom. West Auckland and Northland have a lot in common really. For example, when I was grabbing some road supplies for the drive back, from the Ngunguru dairy/ grog store, a couple of blokes in front of me, wearing boardies and jandals, were saying how you have to put out heaps of burley to catch snapper and how they were going to meet up later at the coastal, native, organic, plant, pottery, painting, pilates, pizza hut then head out to the Poor Knights. Back in Titters, a bloke ahead of me at the checkout,wearing fluoro harems and Birkenstocks, said to his mate: "Yes, goat butter is so good for the intestines and I always add some fish oil, then purge my colon every three days." "Well, I always have a certain amount of lecithin and muchathin in my diet to cleanse my kidneys … Let’s meet up and do some tai-chi on Laingholm beach," replied his mate. I then compared the public notice boards. At Tutukaka, someone wanted a beach tractor: ‘must have rod holders, jetski compatible and a bait net. Will consider a mobile beer fridge or a kayak.’ Back
in God’s own West, the supermarket notice board had an ad that read: ‘Harmonious male, back-packer, into making sixteenth-century stringed instruments, seeks radical lesbian feminist to share studio sleep-out. Nonsmoker. Freedom campers OK.’ See, just ordinary Kiwi folks. While I'm chatting with ya, I’m hanging out for a drink. Shaz and I had said to each other that we would try to cut back on our booze over Christmas and maybe start drinking a bit later in the day. That was on December 23 at 10am. We were pissed by lunch and asleep by 2. Hey, there’s no point in being too hard on yourself while on holiday. Poor me, poor me, pour me a drink. A wiser lady than both of us once said “Self pity is like wetting yourself in winter. A very warm feeling, for a very short time.” Or as our oddly reclusive neighbour Ted said when I said we were trying to cut back, “There’s more than three ways to skin a cat, Lizard.” I didn’t get it either. Ted’s very weird. Anyhoo, it’s awesome to be back home. Looks like we’re in for an old-fashioned, hot-as summer like when we were kids, maybe hotter. As a final random thought: imagine a televised debate between Jesus and Trump. Now that would be great pay to view. Catch ya at the beach. Later, Lizard.
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