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Editorial FOMO Easy News News Entertainment Reviews This vs. That Calendar Girl Random Audit: EARTH102-18B How to Fix Everything
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Rad Rags for Ladies and Lads Centrefold Pass the Aux Arts Erotica: The Mother of All Fucks Erotica: I Bake My Own Bread Erotica: Standard Physio Check-Up Erotica: She Erotica: Unplanned and Unpredictable Erotica: More Than a Spin Cycle Erotica: Ratty Revenge Waikat' Flats Blind Date Horoscopes Snapped Puzzles
Issue 17, 6th – 10th August 2018 Editor: Lyam Buchanan editor@nexusmag.co.nz Design: Vincent Owen design@nexusmag.co.nz Managing Editor: James Raffan james@wsu.org.nz Sub Editor: Jennie-Louise Kendrick jen@nexusmag.co.nz Deputy Editor: Grace Mitchell grace@nexusmag.co.nz News Editor: Alexander Nebesky alex@nexusmag.co.nz Reviews Editor: Archie Porter reviews@nexusmag.co.nz
Contributors: Nisha Novell, Johnny O’Hagan Brebner, Scott Carroll, CJ Lee, Kim Sare, Jared Ipsen, Kaitlin Stewart, Peter Dornauf, Cameron McRobie, E. Mason, Linley the Fruitful, Patricia Pectoralis, Chad Thundercock, A. Jellicoe, Rasputia the Elusive, and the tenants of The Den. Cover: Grope Sans, designed by Flo Fairweather at Bompas & Barr. Instagram: @bompasandparr Online: bompasandparr.com Centrefold: Benjamin Lemoine Instagram: @blemoine Online: giphy.com/benjamin_lemoine_ Podcast Editor: Caleb Bird Instagram: @biobirdnz
Minding Only Their Own Business The past few weeks have seen these editorials reach a new level of preachy, and while some would say it’s time to lay off and attempt something more constructive, fuck them—let’s make it a hat-trick. Viewing university as a business isn’t a concept; it’s a fact. Their primary goal is to hook in as many school leavers as possible, jack them up on student loans, and hope they’ll stick around long enough to keep their statistics positively growing. Investment is poured into Open Days, orientations, and graduation, but everything in between faces a fair amount of neglect. An article recently published in Salient (the student magazine of Victoria University of Wellington) highlighted that over half of all students want to drop out. The reasons ranged from academic pressure, feeling overwhelmed, a fear of failure, and living with mental health issues – but the critical factor was found to be isolation. NZUSA President Jonathan Gee put it perfectly when he called the culture of tertiary education a “highly individualised experience”; that it’s “seen as a means to an end rather than an end in itself.” Now, I don’t believe it’s necessarily wrong to view university as a means to end, but there’s no doubting the individuality of the experience. If over half of the student body is questioning whether or not to stay enrolled, doesn’t that show there’s a definite lack of support somewhere? On one extreme, you’ve got the high-achievers, students who love what they’re doing, are great at what they do, and probably never read Nexus. On the other, you’ve got the students who couldn’t quite crack it, those who end up having a breakdown, dropping out, or, at the least, getting called in for a “are you sure you made the right decision?” chat. Either way, both extremes generally end up receiving the support they require – it’s the endless limbo between the two where individualism and isolation becomes an issue. If the university experience were less of a “means to an end rather than an end in itself” then maybe school leavers wouldn’t assume that their "golden years" coincide with a degree they feel they have to complete. Students need to be better informed of what they’re signing up for. There’s no easy answer; you could say entrance needs to be harder to gain, or that an improved trial period should be introduced. But then again, if universities were a little less focused on the business side of things, I’m sure a positive outcome would come quite naturally.
– Lyam 1
TEDxRuakura | Gallagher Academy of Performing Arts | September 2nd
Following last year’s inaugural sell-out event, TEDxRuakura 2018 is back; bigger, bolder, and more thought-provoking than ever. The theme for this year’s event is "Your Voice, Our Voice". Combining expression, language, and sound is a beautiful way to tell meaningful stories and deliver knowledge that changes the way we all see the world. This year’s event in September will host ten speakers and a number of performances. We’re bringing together people from all walks of life to share their ideas, stories, and voices. General admission is $95, and $120 for VIP (which includes admission, a free barista-made beverage, and exclusive access to the after-party at a mystery location). For tickets and more information head to www.tedxruakura.com
Inaugural Toi Wāhine Festival Hits Hamilton
Hamilton’s first ever Toi Wāhine Festival runs from August 1-11, celebrating 125 years of Women’s Suffrage in NZ with eleven days of exploring women’s creativity, art, and ideas. With more than 25 events happening at The Meteor, Clarence St Theatre, and the Waikato Museum, the Toi Wāhine Festival will explore a diverse range of women’s experiences through performance and discussion. Motivated by those women who fought for the vote, festival co-directors Deborah Nudds and Sophie Hakaraia have curated a unique line-up that includes theatre, music, film, literature, comedy, workshops, panel discussions, networking, and practical skill-building events. For more information and ticket links, go to www.toiwahine.co.nz
Fatigue: Friend or Foe?
Whether you’re a high performance athlete or just keen to get started at the gym, come along to our final athlete development session of the semester. In this week’s session, 'Fatigue: Friend or Foe', Dr. Matt Driller will discuss how to use recovery strategies in your training programme. August 8, 1.10–2pm in L.G.03. 2
Need a New Ride?
ReCycle (part of the Eco Emporium), is offering cheap reconditioned bikes for students to rent or buy. Prices range from $40–80, or you can rent for a year and get money back when you return it. For more information, contact Samantha Rose at: samantha.rose@waikato.ac.nz, or visit the Cow Shed behind SUB.
Inter-faculty Netball
Get a team together and join us for Inter-faculty Netball on August 15 from 10 am – 3 pm at UniRec. There will also be prizes and a free BBQ lunch for both players and supporters. To register with your faculty, contact your Faculty Sports Ambassador or administration staff, or email: uowsport@waikato.ac.nz.
Ever Thought About a Career in Advertising?
The Commercial Communications Council is recruiting for next year’s Grad Programme, and if you’re smart, talented, and curious, they want to hear from you. Head along to their presentation on Thursday the 9 August, 5 – 7 pm in S.1.03. Register with MyCareer: https://waikato-csm.symplicity.com/
Share Your Writing in Mayhem
Submissions for Mayhem, the University’s online literary journal, close on At. Send your original poetry, fiction, or creative non-fiction for your chance to be published. For more info: visit waikato.ac.nz/fass/mayhem.
Know a Top Student in Sport or the Arts?
The Blues Awards recognise our top students in sport and the creative and performing arts. If you or someone you know has achieved at a regional, national or international level, nominate today. Application forms and criteria are available online at waikato.ac.nz/events/blues
Waikato Science Club Bake Sale | Student Centre | 14th August | 10 am – 3 pm
The WSC has an upcoming bake sale fundraiser for Assistance Dogs NZ. They’ll be selling delicious treats and providing a range of puppies which will be available to pat and cuddle! Internet banking will also be available.
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News. Te Reo Phrase of the Week
I haere koe ki te kauhau ? Ka taea e au ki te tāruarua ōu pitopito kōrero?
Did you make it to that last lecture? Any chance I could use your notes?
Weekly Recap
$250,000
will be fined to the culprit of a brutal leopard seal killing in Northland. The seal was found shot in the face on Dargaville beach just a day after it was witnessed sunbathing by locals.
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pigs have been saved from suffocating in a slurry tank by firefighters during the biggest animal rescue operation ever carried out in Northern Ireland.
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Extreme global weather is ‘the face of climate change’ says leading scientist. Following devastating flash floods in Athens and scorching heat waves throughout Europe, Prof Michael Mann has declared that the impacts of global warming are now ‘playing out in real-time’. While climate change has long been predicted to increase extreme weather incidents, scientists are now confident that these predictions are coming true. It is often said, of news, that ‘dog bites man’ is not a story. ‘Man bites dog’, however, is the story. Well, here it is: Thomas Busch, of California, has had several charges levelled at him after a slow-speed chase with police. One of those charges is biting a police dog. Nothing else matters but the fact that I got to write news on a day when a man bit a dog. The Government of the United Kingdom has established a blueprint for employing the army to deliver emergency supplies around the country should Brexit negotiations fail and the UK gain no favourable terms in the split. The government has acknowledged the development of a plan to distribute survival supplies but is also backing its own ability to come to a favourable agreement during negotiations which will conclude March 2019. Brexit supporters have labelled fears of a catastrophe requiring emergency survival supplies as “scaremongering” by those they claim want to spook the country into remaining in the EU.
migrants have drowned so far in 2018 while crossing the Mediterranean in an attempt to enter Europe. Italy’s closure to migrant ships has forced those making the journey to sail further afield to find safety.
5 days
notice could be the minimum Aucklanders get before a major volcanic eruption wipes them off the map, according to a study conducted at the University of Otago.
56 years old,
the age of the Australian cyclist that was left with broken ribs, a broken collarbone, and multiple facial fractures after being knocked from his bike by a hose strung between two trees. A simple prank with horrific consequences.
NEWS
Tech of the Week Tesla Surfboard
First there was a flamethrower, then came the child-sized submarine, now we’ve got a limited edition surfboard. It wouldn’t be far off to say Elon Musk is right in the midst of a very Tony Stark inspired mid-life crisis. In all honesty, there’s really nothing special here, it’s just another way for Tesla fanatics to waste US $1500. Why should you buy this? • There’s no good reason to consider owning one of these. Why shouldn’t you buy this? • There’s no good reason to consider owning one of these.
From the Archive
Nexus Magazine – 2002 5
NEWS
Report: Skin Cancer not Ideal JENNIE-LOUISE KENDRICK A new study shows that Kiwis have the highest incidence of skin cancer in the world, and has confirmed the need to ban sunbeds and make sunscreen standards mandatory, says Consumer NZ. The 2018 Skin Cancer Index says that New Zealand has nearly 2,500 new cases of melanoma every year. According to SunSmart, this makes up 80 per cent of new cancer diagnoses nationwide. Despite the mantra of “slip, slop, slap, and wrap” being drilled into the national conscience, Consumer NZ is warning that slopping on sunscreen may not be as effective as we have been led to believe. In New Zealand, sunscreen is classified as cosmetics, and over half the products tested by the non-profit were not protecting consumers against the sun’s 6
harmful rays as advertised. Consumer NZ Chief Executive Sue Chetwin said last year it tested 20 sunscreens against the Australia/New Zealand standard with only nine meeting their SPF label claim and the requirements for broad-spectrum protection. ‘Our test found some natural sunscreens only provided low protection. One didn’t meet high protection or broad spectrum claims and two companies—including one big brand—provided test certificates for similar, but not identical sunscreens,’ Ms Chetwin says. Sunscreens can be sold in New Zealand without being tested because the sunscreen standard is voluntary here. Unsurprising to anyone that heard the horrific urban legend about a woman burning a hole through
her throat due to sunbed usage, the World Health Organization’s International Agency for Research on Cancer has warned that using one before age 30 increases the risk of melanoma by 75 per cent. Like sunscreens, compliance with sunbed standard is voluntary. Consumer NZ has been investigating sunbed operators through mystery shoppers for over a decade and alleges that their most recent survey confirms poor practices in this industry. ‘Young people and those with fair skin are particularly vulnerable, but two operators allowed a person under 18 to have a sunbed and six operators allowed a person with fair skin to have a sunbed,’ Ms Chetwin said. Shoppers did not have to use the sunbed but carried out the survey in the cubicle.
NEWS
Over Half of Us Want to Drop Out NISHA NOVELL (SALIENT MAGAZINE) A staggering 56 percent of respondents considered dropping out of university, according to a recent study released by the New Zealand Union of Students’ Association (NZUSA). The most common reasons for wanting to drop out were living with mental health issues, loneliness, feeling overwhelmed, a fear of failure, and academic pressure. The Kei Te Pai? Report surveyed 1,762 students about their lived experiences in regard to mental health. It’s the first report of its kind. The survey asked questions about students’ education, living situation, relationship status, and their level of psychological distress. In particular, the survey asked about personal experience with mental health services at tertiary institutions and their mental health history.
Feelings of isolation were highlighted as the critical factor contributing to students’ mental health issues. “[I have] no community that I can rely on and feel a part of, [which is] the greatest cause of my anxiety and depression,” said one respondent. NZUSA President Jonathan Gee said ‘the culture of tertiary education has become a highly individualised experience, and seen as a means to an end rather than an end in itself’. VUWSA President Marlon Drake supports the NZUSA’s research on mental health issues, but questions whether practical steps will be taken. ‘It’s widely agreed that we need to change the way we think about mental health, and it’s great that there is strategic work happening, but the fact is we have
students who need access to these services now,’ said Marlon. NZUSA called on the Government to act on its commitment to institute free counselling for under-25s. In response to the call, Marlon said, ‘I’m not convinced that $10.5 million over three years to pilot free counselling for under 25s is a sufficient response to the immediate need for resources, especially when we already have services on campus that could utilize public funding in the meantime’.
Response to Conversion Therapy Ban Petition Has “Exceeded Expectations” JOHNNY O’HAGAN BREBNER (SALIENT MAGAZINE) A petition calling for the banning of Gay Conversion Therapy in New Zealand has reached roughly 11,500 signatures. The Young Labour and Young Greens organisations launched the petition on Thursday 19 July, and reached 10,000 signatures just four days after. The petitioners are hoping to receive 20,000 to 25,000 signatures. Young Greens CoConvener Max Tweedie is confident
they will reach that goal. Tweedie said the response had exceeded expectations. Following recent media awareness of the issue, the youth wings introduced the petition to pressure Parliament to ban the ‘incredibly harmful’ practice. ‘It harms their mental health… it just ends up causing anxiety, depression, and in the worst cases, suicide,’ said Tweedie. ‘We started this petition to
get rid of it, to ban it. And we hope we can achieve that.’ The United Kingdom has also made moves to ban Conversion Therapy, with Prime Minister Theresa May describing the practice as abhorrent. It is illegal in several states and territories of the US and Canada. The New Zealand Human Rights Commision has supported the call to ban Conversion Therapy. 7
NEWS
Flag ReferenDUMB ALEXANDER NEBESKY Deputy Prime Minister Winston Peters’ fiery suggestion that Australia change their flag on account of plagiarism certainly conjures up horrific flashbacks of yesteryear, when a Prime Minister hellbent for legacy attempted to change our own flag to any one of his favourite New Zealand™ logos. It is, of course, outrageous for Peters to expect Australians to actually change their flag, especially given that polls suggest it is one of, if not the most, beloved Australian symbol. What Peters does give us pause to do, however, is to shake our fists angrily at a moment in history marked by its sheer incompetence – the 2016 New Zealand Flag Referendum. If Australia were to take Winnie’s demands seriously, they would do well to learn from the mistakes of our own referendum. Those mistakes were as numerous as they were egregious. The panel, for starters, would do well to include more than one historian, perhaps more than one member of the indigenous Australian community, and maybe even scale back the number of advertising agents who see the change as an opportunity to strengthen brand 8
recognition for New Zealand™. After all, Julie Christie was a board member of New Zealand Story, a part of the NZ Trade and Enterprise Body – the guys who invented the Silver Fern™ as a symbol for all products produced in New Zealand™. Maybe Australia’s flag panel could include Alan Joyce, CEO of Qantas, and three out of five shortlisted designs could include any combination of a red triangle and the Qantas Kangaroo. But it wasn’t a conflict of interest, because Christie helped put three designs on the shortlist that John Key liked, including his beloved Lockwood designs. “What does John Key like?” always appeared to be a driving motivation behind the flag referendum. He liked changing the flag, so the referendum would be conducted arse-about-face in an attempt to shore up the likelihood of a flag change. We never got to choose if we wanted to have the referendum first, we had to choose a new flag, then decide if we want it over the current flag. As we all well know, John Key also liked Kyle Lockwood. So much so, that he got two designs on the shortlist. If there was ever a claim
to be made about the corrupt flag referendum, then the fact that Lockwood designs made up 40% of the shortlist would be it. Perhaps, an Australian flag referendum might take itself seriously enough to be slightly more ambitious with its shortlist. We’ve all seen Roman Mars’ Ted talk on the value of a well-designed flag. Now, the current New Zealand flag is fairly easy to draw—some stars and a Union Jack. But have you ever tried actually drawing a silver fern? It’s a nightmare. A white fern on a black background is asking for trouble. Try drawing a silver fern that doesn’t look like the NZTA logo and you’ll be there for weeks. Perhaps it could include an indigenous symbol or two – New Zealand’s first flag, the United Tribes Ensign, was conspicuous by its absence, and no criticism of our referendum would be complete without mentioning the fact that the Tino rangatiratanga Flag was never an option for New Zealanders. Australians probably shouldn’t change their flag at the behest of a cantankerous old man across the Tasman, but if they were to do so, there’s a lot to learn from that long-forgotten memory, some two years and $26 million ago.
NEWS
Slightly More Aggressive Airways ALEXANDER NEBESKY Defence Minister Ron Mark announced four Boeing P-8A Poseidon planes will be purchased by the Government to replace the aged planes currently in use by the NZ Defence Force. Currently, the Defence Force runs five Hercules planes and six Orions, purchased in the 1960s. The aircraft, however, have reached the end of their useful lives and maintenance costs have skyrocketed. The four new Boeing P-8A Poseidon planes, equipped with submarine hunting technology
which allows them to locate submerged submarines from the air, will be delivered by 2023 at a cost of $2.3 billion. The purchase comes as part of a policy by the Defence Minister which requires the New Zealand Defence Force to be combat ready in order to face threats to peace and “rules-based order”. The policy singled out China and Russia as potential threats, stating: "Both domestically and as a basis for international engagement, China holds views on human rights and freedom of information that
stand in contrast to those that prevail in New Zealand”. While the Poseidons, and the Defence Force itself, are not intended to face off against foreign threats alone, their adoptions do allow for significant integration with allied militaries for relief work, as well as a greater capacity for regional security, peace, and stability operations, and other engagements the Defence Force is expected to undertake. They will, however, be able to carry arms and be deployed militarily should the need ever arise.
negative studies on the costs of allowing the other nations to host the tournament, paying journalists to write negative articles about other potential hosts, and even organising protests at rugby matches in Australia. The black ops campaign was intended to undermine rival claimants on the FIFA criteria that each bid for the World Cup be supported by the citizens of that country. Authorities in Qatar reject the allegations outright. "We have strictly adhered
to all FIFA's rules and regulations for the 2018/2022 World Cup bidding process," stated Qatar's Supreme Committee for Delivery and Legacy. These allegations of foul play follow accusations by unions that workers on Qatar’s World Cup stadiums are effectively slaves, echoing the controversy surrounding China’s Beijing Olympics human rights abuses. Qatar has already been cleared of wrongdoing by FIFA after a previous two-year inquiry into allegations of corruption.
FIFA: Black Ops ALEXANDER NEBESKY Allegations have surfaced suggesting that Qatar made use of ex-CIA operatives and a costly PR agency to spread propaganda aimed at discrediting Australia and the United States ahead of its own FIFA World Cup bid. Documents allegedly leaked by an individual who worked with the team behind Qatar’s successful World Cup hosting bid claim that strategies to smear Qatar’s main hosting rivals were numerous. The unnamed whistleblower claims that the strategy included hiring academics to publish
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Crush of the Week: People who don’t talk about Fortnite We’ve endured months of Snapchat stories, the evolution of an entire new subset of the English vocabulary, and victory dances gone viral which are simply overdone and eye-roll worthy. Kudos to those who have resisted addiction, and who can go a full hour without mentioning their dubs. Can’t this make like every other trend and get old already?
Clickbait Moodboard: Theme: After reading Nexus Erotica.
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What’s Hot: •
Taking all the flatties home to Mum's for a wholesome Sunday roast
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Vodka sodas/ the LGBTTQIA+ community aesthetic (same thing)
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Working through all the Delivereasy restaurants
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Jack and Dani
What’s Not: •
The HamiltON flag
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Global corporations refusing to abolish single-use plastic bags. How’re you meant to maintain a profit if nobody is left to buy your products
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Pinot Gris. Big yucko.
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Lodging a complaint after reading one line of an article
TOP 10:
Career Opportunities for RAs Generic Suburban Male Accidentally Enrolls at Waikato After Ambiguous WESMO Bribe
“Wow! They get to make race cars! Cool!” – Ryan, 17, BE(Hons) applicant. After a period of brief exposure to the famed University go-kart, another upcoming school leaver succumbs to the lie that a degree in mechanical engineering is an enjoyable life choice.
Mum Grows Concerned After Not Receiving Requests for Money or Personal Support
“It’s been 8 days. They’re either selling drugs, their body, or they’ve been kidnapped.” – Anne, 54, struggles with the concept of her offspring developing independence.
Pedestrian Definitely Didn't Have Time to Cross but Crosses Regardless
By utilising an awkward combination of power walking, skipping, waving, and mouthing apologies, yet another pedestrian manages to take a total of 17 seconds off their daily commute. They were, however, upset when an increasingly disgruntled motorist shouted “just hurry up, cunt”.
It’s a well-known fact that Residential Assistants are the backbone of this institution. It’s also widely accepted that this position is best done as a one year stint – so where should these astounding role models head after their year of duty? 1. Negative-Pay Internships: Unpaid experience is a thing of the past. To get ahead, you’ve got to pay someone for the opportunity to work for them. If anyone knows this, it’s our gracious RAs. 2. The Cool English Teacher: Why join the workforce when you could just continue to act like a pretentious 17-year-old? 3. Contiki Tour Guide: Out of the hostel by 10 pm, sleeping with each other by 1 am. 4. Post-Graduate Student: RAs have a tendency to struggle letting go of the uni lifestyle – though, by constantly extending your studies, you’d never have to worry about it. 5. UoW Student Ambassador: You’re already in the University's backpocket, what's the point in leaving? Taking up an ambassador role means you’d get to constantly be the face of Waikato – what could be better?? 6. Hospitality: Boy, oh boy, isn’t it great you chose to stay in the halls for a second year rather than taking your degree seriously? Put those social skills to the test. 7. Camp America: This was probably your dream all along. Why else would you waste the once in a lifetime opportunity to go flatting for the first time with all your mates? 8. Russell McVeagh: That 2015 Christmas party really got out of hand; sounds like they could’ve really used someone who knows how to manage intoxicated shitbags. 9. High-School Careers Counsellor: The perfect opportunity to continue advising the youth with nothing but their job title to back their opinions. 10. SRA: Those who say being an RA is best as a one year stint have obviously never experienced the rush of guiding the youth through the start of their tertiary journey. If procreation is off the table, this is the next best opportunity to further a sense of importance. 11
Reviews
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Reaper
The Legend of the 10 Elemental M...
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REAPER – NOTHING,NOWHERE REVIEW: CJ LEE
THE LEGEND OF THE 10 ELEMENTAL MASTERS – NICK SMITH REVIEW: SCOTT CARROLL
Gloomy days require gloomy music. Nothing,Nowhere, in my opinion, is an artist that found a perfect balance between hip-hop and emo. Reaper was released on October 20, 2017. The album consists of nine tracks with two features. The sad guitar melodies, NN’s vocals reminiscent of 2000’s emo-pop with a touch of rap, and the angry songwriting just speaks to me. The album begins with ‘Houdini’, a calm guitar-over-a-trap-beat-song. Next is ‘Clarity In Kerosene’, the prettiest song on the album, showcasing NN’s signature screaming/ singing vocals. This then leads to ‘Funeral Fantasy’, a track featuring daydreamy guitars over a hip-hop beat, as Nothing,Nowhere questions the purpose of his existence. The fourth track, ‘REM’, features Lil West’s autotune drench rap vocals, reminiscent of the gothboiclique sound. Next on the tracklist is ‘Blackheart’, my personal favourite song on the entire album. NN sings in ‘Blackheart’, “You’re just another reason why I stay inside. Just another reason why I hate this life’. Oof, that hit me hard. This then leads into ‘Marykate’, a minimalistic song with only a guitar and NN’s vocals. In ‘Hopes Up’, Dashboard Confessional and NN sing about a one-sided relationship, in which one party doesn’t reciprocate feelings. Dashboard Confessional’s vocals sound way better than expected on an emo-rap instrumental. Track eight is ‘Skully’, a song that explores further into NN’s pessimistic self. Lastly, the concluding track ‘Nevermore’, begins with NN’s vocals over an emo-rap instrumental, before breaking into a full-on epic alternative metal finish. 12
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Nick Smith (better known online as ‘Ulillillia’) was an obscure internet personality who put out a myriad of strange content across multiple web platforms; releasing private blog posts, YouTube let’s plays, and pizza de-greasing tutorials. He also published his own book. Make no mistake, The Legend of the 10 Elemental Masters is an utter train wreck of a book. From a nonsensical plot to a thoroughly bizarre method of narration and choice of prose, Smith’s book is as fascinating as it is terrible. The “plot” revolves around an alien protagonist named Knuckles (physically described in a way you can only imagine) who descends—or rather, glides—to the Earth to save it from destruction at the hands of mysterious and otherworldly elemental entities. The Legend of the 10 Elemental Masters styles itself as a movie script, a selfaware role-playing game, and a thrilling adventure story all at the same time. It becomes disorientating, and all of Smith’s approaches come and go whenever they please by the page. Upon finishing The Legend of the 10 Elemental Masters, you’re left with a faint sense of bewilderment or confusion, as if you missed something integral to the plot that brings the whole piece together. Don’t worry, you didn’t.
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Smooth vibes, two lowkey bangers.
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TWIN PEAKS: THE RETURN – DAVID LYNCH & MARK FROST REVIEW: ARCHIE PORTER
David Lynch and Mark Frost returned last year to the dreamy world of Twin Peaks; a place relatively untouched since 1992’s criminally underrated horror masterpiece, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me. Despite the original cast and crew coming back, The Return feels like a whole new beast entirely. With Lynch directing all 18 episodes of the series, this rendition of Twin Peaks abolishes the quirky warmth of the hit ‘90s series, and instead, centers around the dark, nightmarish odyssey of protagonist Dale Cooper. Twin Peaks: The Return stands out as a dazzling auteurist piece amid the dull landscape of contemporary television. In trademark Lynch fashion, it seamlessly blends extremely disturbing and horrifying sequences with hilarious, dreamlike moments of the surreal and the sublime. The series feels like a culmination of Lynch’s entire creative career thus far, incorporating elements from both his filmography and his artwork to form something wholly original and unique. Rife with brilliant characters, suspense, and incredible visual sequences, Lynch and Frost defy conventions. Instead, delivering a visceral, brooding nightmare unlike anything you’ve seen before. While it’s certainly not for everyone, The Return is hands down one of the best TV series I have ever watched—or, at the very least, the most mind-boggling.
Film GOTTI – KEVIN CONNOLLY *Italian-American Mobster Accent* Get da fuck outta here!
Single WHAT’S THE USE? – MAC MILLER Tight production, but leaves you questioning whether or not you’ve heard it before.
Single HARVEST LOVE – TASH SULTANA Hol’ up… where them loop pedals at though??? music. doc
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Flat Earth Y'all globe heads are fuckin’ goofy. Can you honestly say that you’ve ever actually seen the curve? Your perception of the world has been moulded in such a way that your subpar intellect cannot see through its flaws. You’re stuck believing everything that Ms Frizzle and her yellow school bus of lies are pumping into the brains of small children. It’s as ridiculous as the Teletubbies. When I have children, I’m going to let Fox News and B.o.B music videos babysit my offspring. At the most basic level, you’ve got the fisheye effect, something which is built into plane windows to emulate the idea of the curve. Another great example is the happy coincidence that all astronauts seem to film themselves with a GoPro – an additional fisheye lens to further feed the lies of our so-called “spherical planet”. But that’s just entry level, the real proof lies much deeper within the substance in which our very existence has been sculpted. At its purest, this lie of the globe earth hides the intent of God. It allows the masses to believe they are no more than a speck in an ever-expanding universe, leaving them to feel 14
insignificant unlike how God intended – furthermore, it hides the fact that our earth was made for us to rule. As humans, we need to have our fedora moment. Real eyes realise real lies. As one soothsayer on the Official Flat Earth & Open Discussion Facebook Group pointed out, there are heaps of so-called organisations that are propagating evil globe-head ideology. Case in point: The UN. The UN flag is an exact copy of the flat earth map and is divided into 33 sections. 33 is a significant number to Freemasons who are robe-wearing elitists that make up the top 1% that run the world and worship Satan. The Illuminati is a myth that has been put out to confuse the sheeple and divert our attention away from the Freemasons. All you globe-heads need to wake the fuck up and realise that you live on a flat earth that is surrounded by a ring of ice that prevents us all falling off the edge.
Round Earth The only way I can take this somewhat seriously is to pretend that I’m explaining things to someone who has time-travelled forward a few centuries in time and doesn’t understand basic scientific concepts… so here goes. You know when you see a ship of British colonisers about to conquer and whitewash the culture of your island nation, and it kind of looks like its come up from under the sea? Basically the spherical shape of our Mother Earth means we kind of see the the ship emerging upwards, rather than materialising into view from a really long, straight distance away. The next time you’re checking out the star constellations to see when it’s time for the corn harvest, let it be noted that people in different countries will see different constellations to you. I’m sure you’d think in this case that, much like your religious opinion, everything in your perspective is correct—the crazy thing is, different perspectives can be right in their own way, too! Aristotle was the smartie pants who realised this meant the Earth had to be round, not flat. I’d listen to him over morons in
the Flat Earth Society. This one’s going to really throw you off—if you’re playing with your favourite nostalgic childhood toy (i.e. a pair of wooden sticks), note that sticks in different locations will have different sized shadows, pointing in different directions. If the Earth was flat, they’d have the same sized shadows. Mind-blowing. Those glowing orbs in the sky aren’t actually blocks of cheese, by the way, they’re planets and moons. Now, note that they’re all round, not flat. Egocentric humans think Earth is different and special. News flash: we’re not?! Try and argue against pictures taken out of plane windows and from space which um, rather fucking clearly show that the Earth is round. Unless of course you’re (probably) a conspiracy theorist who doesn’t believe anyone’s been into space. In which case, you should study advanced physics, become an astronaut and go into space yourself while you swallow your stubborn stupidity. Can I finish lowering my personal standards to even debate this topic now? Okay? 15
The 21st KIM SARE Ah, twenty-first season; it’s a time that will grace us all, whether you’ve already survived it, are currently suffering through it, or are eagerly anticipating it. It’s a night to remember for sure, no matter if it’s your special night, your best mates’, or an old family friend’s. However, there are a few key elements to ensuring success rather than failure, and this right here is your guide to not fucking up the whole shebang. First and foremost, never outshine the guest of honour. As much as you love a good spotlight, a 21st party that is not yours is not the place to publicise everything you. The big contender here is the outfit. Of course, we want to look our best for a big shindig— who knows who’s going to be there?! But let’s not go overboard. Ladies, perhaps avoid excess glitter, sequins, crazy patterns—literally anything that will draw attention to you at all, amirite? And for the boys, all any of you wear is jeans and a button down, so I think you’re good. Also, maybe cool it on the super loud laughter at the embarrassing stories. Instead of others falling in love with you on the spot, you might find it has the opposite effect. Another top point is to watch it on the drinks. We’re at uni now, so I’d like to think you’re all experienced drinkers due to the “peer pressure” of high school. As a result, you should all know your limits. If you do not, sort yourself out—please and thank you. This is where rule number two comes in—don’t get sloppy. It would nice to actually remember the night, and it’s no fun for anyone when you have to be filled in on your 16
shameful actions the morning after you blacked out. Take it easy on the bar tab, remind yourself that there are parents in attendance, and try not to make too much of a fool of yourself. Now, if the party has taken a turn for the worse and everything seems to be going down the shitter, get everyone on the dancefloor. By this point, all guests will have put a few drinks away and a couple of them will be absolutely fizzing to show off their moves. Get the DJ to put on a good tune that all are sure to love. Be brave, and shake what your mumma gave you. The outcome here is that everyone sees how much fun you’re having, decides to stop sulking in the corner, and joins you to cut some shapes. The alternative to this is everyone watching on as you give dancing your best shot, and you gain a forever reputation as an idiot. A win-win, really. At the end of the day, a 21st is like any other momentous event. Everything could go completely tits up, but at the end of the day, you’ve had a good time and made some memories with your nearest and dearest. Try to relax and just let the good times roll.
EARTH102-18B Discovering Planet Earth I decided I’d blunder along to the paper that never was… that’s to say, the one I was most probably meant to take in first year but never did. I always wondered: what was I missing? Would EARTH102 have unleashed an unbeknownst passion for geological formations? Would this have been the paper of all papers? Would I discover planet Earth, as the title suggests? Well, from the intel I gathered today, I’d say a pretty fair ‘no’to all of the above. I wanted to enjoy learning about rocks, I really did, but it’s safe to say I’m just not that way inclined. First impression was the set up looked dead professional. I say that purely because the professor was wearing a grey sweater with brown shoulder and elbow patches, which is quite honestly the closest example I’ve seen in all my days of what I initially presumed professors were supposed to look like (why do they all not have beards, wear spherical glasses, a blazer, sweater and bow tie every day, and why are they not all white men over 50?). We covered the three great groups of rocks: igneous, sedimentary, and metamorphic. I tuned out two minutes in, so I really can’t say I learned much more than that. He spent about ten minutes on one slide talking about the percentages of silica in different rock types, so for their own sakes, I hope those poor buggers don’t have to memorise all of it. The final fact I gleaned was that Bridal Veil Falls overflows from basalt rock and was formed from a little volcano not far away, a fact which I’ll whip out on my next Raglan trip – and possible even take it as incentive to go miniature volcano-hunting. Weirdly, it didn’t feel totally like a first-year class. Did losing their Semester A exam virginity strip them of their fresh-facedness? I felt sure I would be scoffing at the simple content they were learning and, as per usual, I was wrong. I left ten minutes early and found myself singing (?!) to myself when I left, if that gives you any indication on how much I enjoyed it. Sorry, earth folks. There was, however, one quote that really spoke to me on a deep level. The professor said “you never know when you might be asked sometime in the future to draw a diagram like this” in reference to the rock cycle diagram, which I think described how rocks are created. That’s going to haunt me. Maybe one day I’ll be in an emergency where someone desperately requires a rock cycle diagram, and I’ll kick myself for not paying better attention. Oh well – I’ll take that as it comes.
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We Fixed Nothing: The Pointlessness Of Making Music Or Doing Pretty Much Anything JARED IPSEN I didn’t interview anyone this week. I don’t know if I even listened to any music (outside of ‘Ghost Town’ by Kanye about 100 times). Honestly, it’s been kind of rough. By the time you’re reading this, my granddad may have passed away. Watching this happen has made me reevaluate a lot of things. And now that I’m sitting here trying to put together this fucking article, it got me thinking about why I wanted to write a weekly music column and what I was hoping to achieve with it. I don’t want to write about bands just for the fuck of it—I want to find out what makes a community good, what makes art interesting, what convinces people that forming a band is a good idea. Music just happens to be at the forefront of my life— all I really want to know is why people do things when they know the thing probably isn’t going to make them any money or even be noticed by anyone. We started H2FE a few years ago putting on hardcore shows in Hamilton—and by we, I mean Todd put on a bunch of shows, and I occasionally posted on Facebook about them. You can achieve a lot with an idea, $0, and a busted up Toyota Corolla. We spent late nights pasting up posters, even later nights cleaning up after shows, and paid for all the expenses out of our own pockets (read: Todd’s pockets). The biggest turnout we ever cracked was about 150, at a touring US band’s show at Zeal. I think we only ever made money once (like $60). We didn’t give a shit about 18
that anyway—we just wanted to put on shows. The actual music has always been secondary to me. The thing that brought me in and made me want to organise events was, and still is, community - this gathering of people just like yourself that you can play music with, drive for eight hours to a show with, fight with, and laugh with, and participate with in this thing we call a “scene.” It hasn’t always been great. Most of the time, it’s downright shit. I think the main thing I talk to people in bands about is how much it sucks to be in a band. I always ask the same things – how do we get more people to shows? Why is what we’re doing now not working? Is it still worth putting all this effort in? What are we all making music for? And I always get the same answers. Connection, community, friendship – these are the things that matter at the end of the day. Every time we go to a show, write lyrics to a song, perform in front of a crowd—we’re attempting to make a connection. Even if nobody listens to your EP (likely), even if you don’t break even on the show you’ve put together (highly likely), even if somebody emails you to tell you how much your band sucks (it happens, trust me, not even just once either)—as long as there’s one person out there that connects with what you’re doing, it’s worth it. Or at least, we have to believe it is. At the end of it all, connection is all we really have.
Winter Wonderland KAITLIN STEWART Upon that beautiful time of year when the cold weather arrives, we see the Negative Nancys appear out of hiding; people that endlessly complain about the weather as if their words will have the power to change it. But yes, I am 100% guilty of that—don’t you go pretending you aren’t. However, complaints about winter are not welcome here. The best collections are dropped and street style flourishes when the cold weather arrives. During the vast experience I’ve had writing this column, all I seem to do is make an atrocious attempt at being deemed well-cultured through a series of lists. So, apologies for that. But in order to celebrate such a glorious season, let me yet again grace you with a list of frostbite fighting f’its. Okay I know, “Kaitlin, we’ve heard this before, we get it, you love turtlenecks.” But if there is anyone who actually reads this column, please bear with me. They are a genuine winter essential. In a range of different styles, materials, colours, and sizes, the definition of a turtleneck can vary so much. When pairing them with other items you could go for mom jeans, plaid pants, overalls, under a spaghetti strap dress...the options are endless. And before you judge, go get one. You’ll thank me on that fateful morning when those bruises, as a result of your clumsiness the night prior, are in desperate need of hiding. A statement piece I love has been gracing my sight every time I walk around uni: oversized coats. Plaid and checkered patterns have made a major comeback this season. Not only do oversized coats work with practically any outfit, they keep you hella warm—like I’ve said in the past, and will continue to reiterate. Oversized clothing is all this world will ever need. Layers, Layers, Layers. Wear as many items of clothing as possible – the very obvious solution to fighting the continuous blizzards that are Hamilton weather. However, this is why I love winter. Yeah, if you haven’t gathered by now, I’m not much of a fun in the sun, summer lovin’ type of gal. The only outfit I’ll ever need is a statement coat, stacked on a flannel, stacked on a turtleneck, paired with the oldest pair of pants I could find. I mean, what a fucking combo. I would love to recommend shoes, but let’s be real. Shoes are universal. No matter the weather, here in New Zealand, jandals will forever be worn. And I feel pretentious enough recommending winter clothing, let alone pretending shoes matter too. I feel like an over-concerned mother, telling all my children “you better wrap up! You’ll get a cold!” Honestly, just wear whatever you want. But if you somehow garner hypothermia, don’t say I didn’t tell you so. 19
Give Me My Aux Back ARCHIE PORTER Archie Porter returns once more in this week’s Pass the Aux with a small collection of chill tunes. Critics and audiences alike are calling his return “a colossal misstep for Nexus magazine, and civilization as a whole,” while others have pleaded for him to “… give the fucking aux back.” All this controversy begs the question: why does Nexus only have one aux cord? 1. ‘FORGET IT’ BY BLOOD ORANGE: The first track from Blood Orange’s debut album Coastal Grooves, ‘Forget It’ is a sweet little slice of alternative music that dons a plucky bassline, tight percussion, and an extravagant, if not excessive, guitar solo. Despite the upbeat, poppy tone of the track, Devonté Hynes’ lyrics are surprisingly dark, speaking of the boundary between sexual fulfilment and emotional attachment. Though the record overall isn’t amazing, there’s definitely a few bangers (I resent myself for using this word, but my self-loathing has hit an all-time low, and I just don’t give a hoot anymore) that definitely deserve your attention – this song is one of them. Obviously. 2. ‘IZ-US’ BY APHEX TWIN: ‘IZ-US’ (don’t worry, I’m not sure how to correctly pronounce it either) is a relatively hidden gem amongst Aphex Twin’s colossal discography. Featuring on 1997’s interestingly titled EP Come To Daddy, ‘IZ-US’ closes the record on an intimate, almost chill vibe akin to his ambient works, that nicely contrasts the rest of the tracks. Richard D. James utilizes soft, mellow synths with drum-and22
bass style percussion throughout the track, playing the two instruments off one another to form a catchy and layered rhythm. I’m not entirely sure why this song hasn’t got more recognition: in fact, I’d go as far to say that it’s probably my favourite song by Aphex – not that that really means anything, unless he’s reading this… I doubt he’s reading this. 3. ‘USSR’ – BY REJJIE SNOW: ‘USSR’ is the third track from Rejjie Snow’s excellent debut EP Rejovich. Sporting a mellow, slow-paced vibe, the whole EP is a fantastic and refreshing listen – of the five songs, this one’s my personal favourite. The stripped back production of the song, featuring a twinkling piano melody and smooth drum beat, provides an effectively simple backdrop for Rejjie and Jesse James to rap over. While Snow’s later work has been very good, such as this year’s Dear Annie, the production feels somewhat overcomplicated. This early release is nice and reserved, however, focusing mainly on the dark lyrics and relaxing vibe that Rejjie excels at creating.
We Need More Iconoclasts PETER DORNAUF When you’re first at something, it carries a certain kudos; a certain recognition that cannot be denied or located elsewhere. We (the royal appellation) can lay claim to a few firsts in this little island nation. Extending the franchise to women ahead of the rest of the world, for one. Was it our nascent sense of egalitarianism that served as prompt; having broken away from the old country? Another first is our science man, Rutherford, dabbling in the deep end. Then our intrepid adventurer, Sir Ed, knocking the bastard off at the high point. Closer to home we have Gordonton dairy farmer, Ron Sharp, inventing the herringbone cowshed and making life forever easier for dairying folk. In the world of art, to be first, particularly in the modernist mode, inventing a new style, would be tantamount to instant success. Pop Art was one such revolution. The artist Roy Lichtenstein appropriated the comic book form and was an overnight sensation. But no one in America would have known or heard of our own Colin McCahon, who a decade earlier had taken the speech bubble format and used it, iconoclastically, in a series of religious paintings. Another first, but sadly unacknowledged by the rest of the world. Here in Hamilton, that same iconoclastic tradition has continued, using the comic book genre.
Craig McClure’s recent exhibition at Freit Contemporary Gallery in Frankton is a classic example. His childhood was drenched with American comic books and cartoons, and out of the maelstrom McClure has created his own cast of characters which mock the masculine stereotypes that pervade the category. Not Superman or Spiderman, bulging with power and muscle, but a hunched and overweight anti-hero is the centerpiece of the black line drawings the artist employs. Tough guy figures are replaced with Mr. Blobby types, unfit for duty and asleep on the job, who inhabit somewhat abstract and surreal landscapes. It’s good to see parody making a resurgence in this satirically starved nation of ours. Another who works in a similar vein is Hamilton artist, Joseph Scott, exhibiting at Skinroom, Frankton. His work on cardboard (love the low rent medium) entitled “Punchbowl” took aim at all those art groupies who turn up to exhibition openings just for the free food and drink. The text of the work, with those sort of folk in mind, reads: “Wow, it makes you think, for two seconds, then it’s off to the punchbowl” So true. We need more iconoclasts. This way, please.
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Lock the door, stretch your fingers, and get stuck in – our infamous erotica competition is back and ready to leave you unsatisfied. The following pages may cause moistening of the loins and semipermanent feelings of regret. Reader discretion is advised. The Mother of All Fucks CHAD THUNDERCOCK It was O-Week, Semester 1 2015, and I was new to uni. I was staying in the halls, the lads and I were crushing back a few beersies, and talking about girls and shit. I’d heard that your mum always held an event parallel to O-Week, called “Blow-Week”, where she sucked off all the guys that came to visit her. I had to check it out, even though it was all probably just a stupid rumour. I waited until all the lads started heading into town, staying behind with the excuse that I needed to shit. When they had gone, I called a cab and went straight to your family home. Your mum answered the door. She was wearing sexy, athletic mum clothes that showed off her doubleDs and slim-thick figure (credit where it’s due, your mum keeps in shape). Without saying a word she led me to your childhood bedroom and unzipped my trousers. ‘My goodness,’ she said, all horny and shit. ‘Normally I just do sloppy blowies, but your cock is so nice you have to fuck me.’ I’d watched a fair amount of porn in my time, so I was pretty confident that I knew how to pleasure a woman’s vagina. 24
Your mum dropped to her knees and took my pork sword into her mouth as far as she could. She gasped as she took it back out. “It’s so fucking big!” Her lips travelled the length of my shaft till her nose was pressed firmly against my abs. ‘You know, in some states you need a license to carry this kind of heavy weaponry’ I told her as my monster dong tickled the back of her throat. Her lips slid back along the length of my knob, her mouth leaving my quivering member shiny and slick. ‘Oh yeah?’ she said. ‘Well, why don’t you put your penis where my vagina is?’ She stood up. I didn’t kiss her mouth because that would be an act of love, and I don’t love your mum. I just wanted to fuck her. I put my hands down her pants and it felt like I was feeding a horse. I knew she was ready. I spun her around and slid my wanger right in, and proceeded to disrespect her pussy for at least the next 7 minutes. Your most cherished childhood toys watched on as my meat missile annihilated her minge. I turned your mum to face me and lay her on the
I Bake My Own Bread E. MASON
bed so I could look into the same eyes that you first looked into as a newborn. My pace quickened as I drove my point home. Your mum screamed because she was cumming real hard. I pulled out and busted a huge nut all over your mum’s FACE. She fucking LOVED it. Shit was cash. ‘Usually I never cum from just penetration’ she gasped. ‘But your massive, large, and girthy cock did just the trick.’ It was the best smash of my life, and we both froze in time for a moment. ‘I’m gonna go clean your fat, delicious load off my face and tits,’ said your mum. She showed me the PlayStation 4 hooked up to the TV on the desk in your bedroom. ‘Do you wanna play Call of Duty while I freshen up? You can fuck me again, town doesn’t close until 3, we have plenty of time.’ I glanced at my watch. It was only 11.30. I knew I could play a few rounds of Rust and fuck your mum at least 3 more times before you even thought about heading back to Halls. It was the best O-Week of my life.
Nights at Subway are my thing. Two pm 'till ten. I come in as the morning guys make their final sub, a takeaway one for their own lunch, crammed with everything because it's free. Georgette comes in every other day, always between two and two-thirty. She runs a law firm three shops down with her husband Chris. Their usual order is two six-inchers: wholemeal bread, chicken fillet, one with all the salads and extra olives, the other just with tomato and lettuce. A squirt of mayo on both. Never changes. —and how is Edward today? she asks me, every time. —oh he's good, I'd say, and Eddie's not doing too bad either, give her a smile over the glass. My name badge says Edward. When she fucks me on the floor of her office, the carpet grinding my naked back, she digs nails into my shoulders and I am 'Eddie, Eddie, Eddddie.' We fuck in my evening break, on the nights Chris goes to the gym. If Georgette comes in for a single cookie at five thirty, that's the signal the offices of Mason & Co. are empty. I clock out half an hour later and walk down the street. Last Thursday she came for a cookie. By six-thirty I was in her office, my tongue making damp circles on her neck, just under her ear. Her whole body was sucking into mine, hands cupped under my ass, her hips thrust forward. It was a routine now. Next, she would unbuckle my belt, the fingers of her left hand diving under the elastic of my boxers, skin on skin and then tongue on skin and then I'd have to stop my mind wandering for long to enough to stay hard. —take your shirt off, honey, whispering, let's get naked this time. She slid her skirt over her ankles and stepped out of it. Her top followed, bra and panties too. Then she turned to the wall, looked over her shoulder to me. I was rolling the condom, making more of a job of it to cover up the fact I was having to stroke and try and get hard enough to go in. —Eddie, come on ... ohhh ohhh ohhh god. —um ... um ... Georgette? Georgette. Georgette! She looked back at her office door. He was wearing shorts, holding a black duffel bag. —Chris! Chris. Jesus, fuck, fuck... —is that the guy from Subway? —Ah, I'm Edward, yeah. —at least someone's fucking you, right honey? I bet she's told you all about how I can't make her cum these days. 25
Standard Physio Check-Up PATRICIA PECTORALIS
—well, do you want to try now then, Chris? Come on, Eddie's got me halfway there, she wiggled two fingers into her cunt. —I don't Georgie, shit, you know that's not going to work. —Edward, Ed, I'm calling you Ed, he dropped the bag, stepped toward me, kicked my jeans out of the way, have you ever been, curious? His lips were heavy on mine. I tasted sweat every time I moved off those lips. Sweat on my tongue and hands that cupped my shoulders and squeezed them into his chest. I don't know what Georgette was doing when I entered him. Chris moaned and pushed back, bending his knees. Then he turned and looked at me, two wet eyes opened wide and then closed, the skin at their corners creasing as his mouth fell into a smile. And then it was seven. Back down the stairs, back to the blaring, chain-store fluorescence of work. My boxers were sticky on my waist, flecks of cum knotted into my pubes. Pulled on the plastic gloves and started my evening of looking back at people over the glass. Nurses, road workers, suits. Tired faces, mumbled orders. —Chris. Chris? —you left this behind, holding out my rectangular name badge, trying to be discreet with it in his hand. —thanks, it was a rush, I guess. —no worries, I'll see you, see you later then. When I open my hand I saw that he'd striped correction tape over the last four letters of my name. I clipped it back onto my shirt. Fuck it, I'm Ed now. 26
The door closed softly behind me as I approached my new client, relieved to finish the last session from a long day of persuading old geezers to do their knee exercises, dealing with grouchy Susans (yes, plural) and their sore hips, and filling out endless ACC forms at the clinic. Trina the receptionist kept checking the clock for the past half hour, no doubt planning to scramble to Friday after-work drinks the minute I was out of sight. My info told me the client was Hans, German origin, 20 years old – in for a niggly strained groin injury. I piped up in greeting and immediately had to save myself from stuttering as he looked up – this guy was gorgeous: sparkly green eyes, a dark mess of soft, curly hair, and perfectly defined muscles glowing through his golden tan. We briefly discussed his injury, with him informing me he obtained it on tour with the national royal ballet company, adding a wink, a cheeky grin and tacking casually on the end that he was, despite the stereotype, very much “into women.” I blushed at his brazen flirting, regained my composure and requested that he lay down on his back for a deep-tissue massage, hoping he hadn’t heard my nervous swallow as he mounted the table, his movement briefly revealing his über toned quads, rippling calves, and deliciously perky derrière. I tried to avoid his dreamy gaze and maintain light small talk whilst stroking his upper thigh; first delicately, assessing his sensitivity, then harder, deeper. I realised I had never had a client this attractive, let alone been mere inches from the genitals of one – nay, any person, ever – this devastatingly fine. To my awe, after maybe thirty seconds of massaging, his shorts grew tight around his groin area – the material straining against his ever-growing, visibly rock-hard bratwurst. I said nothing, continuing to knead right up under his shorts and avoid the elephant in the room (no, really), until he softly moaned “…so hot.” Surely, he couldn’t have intended his overtly sensual tone. “The cream? Is the cream making you uncomfortable?” I stammered, assuring myself that it was simply the heating sensation of the cream. “No, I mean you,” he cooed, holding my gaze with sublime confidence, searching for permission. I must have given my desire away, because suddenly it was him who was caressing my inner thigh and pulling me towards
him. Perhaps it was the fact that the clinic was nearly deserted, that I had lost my wits from a busy day, the sexy accent, or just because he was insanely, superhumanly hot – but, shocking myself, I yielded to his touch. I feebly attempted resisting, but every hint of professionalism was gone with the lightning that passed between us as his lips met mine. His mouth was soft and warm, exploring my mouth, my neck, and nibbling at my ear lobe. With urgent force, he pulled me on to his lap, using his strength to adjust my legs so I was straddling his hard, throbbing, frankfurter. My button-up shirt was swiftly removed, his strong fingers groping and caressing my breasts, making my bra disappear with amazing speed. I felt exhilarated by how forbidden it was, removed his T-shirt with my teeth and sprawled over his finely-honed torso, barely realizing when the moment had arrived that both of our lower halves transitioned from safe, respectable summer shorts to bare, tantalizing nakedness. “Shall I keep massaging that groin?” I breathed, teasingly, holding his manhood in a firm grip. He groaned in agreement, telling me there was only one way to make it any better – and then, he entered me,
causing us to audibly sigh in unison, rocking the physio table with each rhythmic thrust of his lengthy German sausage, steadily building in speed and power. Hans’ hands grasped my bouncing breasts, his tongue tracing my hard nipples. I gripped the armrest for support as he guided me repeatedly up and down, cursing under his breath, sweat beading on his handsome forehead from exertion. He picked me up and expertly swung himself into missionary, entering me with impassioned vigour and raking his hands through my hair in near-agony. I felt sexier and wetter than ever before, invigorated with adrenaline at the forbidden scandal and pure promiscuity of it all, catching our hot, writhing reflection in the mirror. His sweaty, muscled, lean body was pressed on top of me, fucking me like mad. After minutes of breathless thrusting I reached climax, clawing his back. Hans threw me into doggy style, speeding up and eventually, gasping, he filled me with his warm pleasure. We lay panting together when, panicked, I realised our session ended minutes ago and hurriedly dressed myself. “So, another check-up next week, yes?” Hans purred, irresistibly.
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She INDIGO SMITH She is sitting at the bar, waiting for him to arrive. They’ve been on and off for longer than she can remember, never official, always avoiding a “label”. She’s wearing tight black skinny jeans (she knows he likes her ass in this pair), and no bra under her white cotton crop top because none of her lacey bralettes were clean. She wonders if he’ll make her cum, or dump her once and for all tonight. Even though she knows she intoxicates him, she wonders. She takes refuge in knowing the music of her laugh is his favourite sound, and that he savours the taste she leaves on his tongue. She squirms on her barstool, remembers the way he shudders when he watches her swallow his dick to its base. She’s his favourite thing. She knows because she’s seen him, chest out, head high, anger vibrating if someone hurts her; and she’s seen him quivering, moaning, vulnerable when she’s between his legs. Still, she wonders if he’ll let her mouth lips tongue touch him. Tonight she is sitting at the bar, waiting for him to arrive, because she has something to tell him. Outside, sitting under the burning orange heater, smoke in hand, drink in the other, they sit centimetres from each other. They aren’t touching, but he can see her nipples under the fabric of her top, and his heart is racing. She’s just told him about Alex. “You little slut,” he murmurs, as he narrows his eyes. Pauses. Holds her gaze, “Fucking around on me with bitches, huh?” She smirks as she glances away, feels a shiver down her spine, and as her eyes flicker back to him, a
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throb in her cunt. Inside there’s the warm, full murmur of early Saturday evening, and as she sips her drink, warmth spreads inside her. There is excitement in the air, and neither of them can tell if it’s because they’re together, or because the lazy haze of nervous pre-drinking is passing. She starts to lie, “I thought about you the whole-” cuts herself off, takes a drag of her smoke and admits “I actually really enjoyed fucking a girl.” “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a dick in your mouth?” She laughs her laugh like a song, and he touches her skin. “Are you ready to get out of here?” Behind the museum, in the dim parking lot by the river, they merge together in the shadows, a scrambling, pulsing, frantic shape of two bodies pressed tight up against a car door. He’s leaning with his back against it, almost casually, and she’s pressed hard up against his chest, sucking his neck, moaning by his ear. His leg is wedged firmly between her thighs as she writhes and grinds against his jeans, back and forth, back and forth. His hands grab her ass. “Is this how she got you off?” he asks. “Mnnghhhh..” she moans, nods and her lips brush against his denim jacket. “Or did she need to use her mouth?” The girl from the bar cums under the stars, as the memories of last night flood back. She feels his heat and is certain he won’t leave her over another girl. Although, in this moment, she isn’t certain she won’t do the same to him.
Unplanned and Unpredictable LINLEY THE FRUITFUL You were the careful planner, the cautious analyser. You liked to have your life sorted so that you wouldn’t have to worry in the future. Because you liked to analyse how other people behaved so that you could make smooth and efficient conversations, you naturally grew to predict how one would react in certain reactions. In a way, most people became predictable just because you spent way too much time studying how one would take action in any given situation. Keyword being ‘most’. She was very unpredictable. On some days, she’d give you the coldest gaze, a stare that held no warmth and didn’t offer any love. On other days, you’d be wrapped in the biggest hug with a massive grin stretched across her face. Sometimes she would give mature advice to her friends, sometimes she would go wild and roar with laughter at their childish activities. You were the careful planner. You planned to have a stable relationship in the future and you planned to keep your romantic life strict and uptight. You didn’t plan to do flings or friends with benefits - you planned to keep this serious. You didn’t plan her, so random and carefree, to come into your life. You also didn’t plan to be in her bed, her lips on your neck and your hands roaming around her body. You didn’t plan any of this. She asked you, seemingly on a whim, to join her tonight in bed. Having known her for a while, you assumed it was a joke and tried to play it off as one. Then, as one would expect (though you definitely didn’t), her ability to become unpredictable forced you to stumble into her room, flustered and bewildered. Lead by her hand, pushed onto the bed, she leapt upon you like an animal and feasted on your body. “I want you.” She whispered into your ear. ‘How long did she want you for?’ popped into your mind. However, it soon didn’t matter when your body shook underneath her touch. Her shirt slowly came off as she moved her hips against yours, locking you in place. If you had any plans tonight, they soon left your mind when you saw her naked torso fill your field of vision. Instinctively, you did the same, throwing your shirt onto the floor and whatever dignity you had out the window. Your pants started to unzip, her soft fingers
trailing your leg. Soon, you were naked - and, in the blink of an eye, so was she. She whimpered slightly when your bare leg rubbed against hers. While it was obvious she wanted this, her naked body pressed against yours only confirmed it. Her delicate hands slipped a condom onto your penis. ‘She’s experienced,’ you thought. Even though you were too, it was odd to have that resonate through your brain. Then again, this wasn’t fantasy where everybody was innocent - this was reality. This is happening right now. She didn’t wait for confirmation, descending her body onto yours, her hips slamming against yours. It was so sudden that you couldn’t help but groan, though your vocal pleasure was underwhelming compared to her loud moan. For a while, neither of you didn’t say anything, the pleasure letting your body to the talking. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, she started to move. You felt your length move inside her and it felt incredible. Your body shook underneath hers, a wave of pleasure coursing through your body. For a split second, you considered giving in - however, your pride didn’t let you. You duly noted that she liked being the one in control. She moved with vigor, energy powering each motion. Grinding her vagina against your own sex was indescribable and her soft whimpers only served to enhance this experience. You weren’t one to lay back, however. Grabbing her hips, you flipped her over and laid her on her back. Then, after taking slight joy in her confused expression, you thrust into her. Her hot breath, her shivering body, her ruffled hair… all these detailed burned into your memory as you continued pounding her. The next few minutes held nothing but the echoes of skin slapping against skin, moans and the creaking of the bed. Something overtook you and you attacked her lips with your own as you came, her body shaking underneath yours. You assumed she did the same. Now breathless, you lay next to her, trying to analyze her. Why? What merit was there to commit something like this? As if she was reading your mind, she smiled. “You were too slow, dumbass. I want this to be serious.” Well. Your lips twitched upwards. You certainly didn’t plan this… however, you most definitely weren’t against it. 29
More Than a Spin Cycle A. JELLICOE It was a crisp evening. I was walking with Alexandria, my new girlfriend, along Victoria street after a sweet Friday night out. “It’s pretty lame out here, I think I’m just getting to that age where town just seems the same every night”. She was much older than me, around 40 - one could describe her as a big tiddy goth. When I summed up the courage to speak to her at the bar, it may have been the best decision I made for a while. “Would you like to come over to my house over on Jellicoe?” she offered. “Sure…I don’t have much plans for tomorrow” I was probing in my mind for something to say after all the awkward silences, but then she squeezed my hand and all the need to talk seemed to fade away at once. Her room was small and homely. It was filled with random etchings scattered calculatingly all over the walls and on the ceiling. The subjects of the drawings were various; there were lizards, spiders, scorpions and young men drawn in anime style. “This is my first time,” I blurted out. Her frosty eyes looked at me intensely, her breath was palpable against my cheek. “You know I would normally eat students like you for breakfast - but for you - I’ll be as gentle as possible.” She leaned back, our eyes met, and I began to relax. When she looked deep into my eyes I felt the urgency within myself to slowly dissipate, and all worries were cast away. I cleared away her fringe from her forehead and traced my hand down her face. She pulled me closer, until our lips united. Her tongue slowly advanced into my mouth until it began to tussle with my tongue. “I’m just used to just rubbing one out” “You’re so cute, you special little guy! You can draw now…draw me to life… Just like in Inkheart!” She immediately placed her hands downstairs. I took off her thick black coat and she took out my erection. She ripped my shirt off with vigour, exposing my skimpy figure. Her hair jostled back and forth, picking up the pale moonlight that streamed from the curtain left slightly ajar. I swept off the junk from my desk and she hopped on. Her hair jostled back and forth, picking up the insipid moonlight that streamed from the curtain left slightly ajar. Her voluptuous breasts began to jiggle upon every thrust - every pounding. It was better than I ever thought it could be… perfect. We switched positions continually as the night began to ease into the small wee hours. “Very good… you have done well tonight. Let’s get 30
you ready for your second lesson.” She grabbed a whip and held the end in her hand “You ever been dominated?” I shook my head. “I like dominating my lovers, it’s my personal little quirk.” She then cracked a whip where it landed on my right thigh. I let out a pathetic yelp of pain. The sacramental melody of Thomas Tallis oozed from the speakers. I knew I had met my match. She changed her tone of voice to a menacing tone, “come here and fuck me raw, until I cum.” I began to move when she cracked the whip again. “Faster, like you mean it, like this your last day on your earth, and I’m the only person you want to fuck”. I ran to her and we fell on the floor, I fell first to break her fall. She then continued to demand that I thrust faster and faster. It was almost primal… a direct contrast from earlier that night. She then aggressively took my hand and grabbed a cuff from the pocket of her corset. I felt my hand against the cold metal of the bedpost and I heard the click from the cuffs locking in place. “You’re staying right where you are…you’re not leaving me tonight.” She then sat on my face. It was all very new to me at this point. I contemplated my decision over the night, but I knew that finding a woman as untamed as she was these days was hard to come by. Two hours went by rapidly when I heard a car come into the driveway. My date got up hastily got dressed. “What … what are you doing?” I panted. “I gotta do some laundry.” “You’re telling me you gotta do fricken laundry at three in the morning?” “It’s complicated.” Her flatmate walked through the door, to find me naked cuffed to the bedpost, screaming out Alexandria’s name. “You know…you’re not the first one that I’ve found like this. Alexandria’s pretty wild isn’t she? Would you like me to fix you a cuppa coffee?”
Ratty Revenge: Mature MILF Mashes the Fat RASPUTIA THE ELUSIVE It was another late night at the University of Waikato Rat Lab. My lab tutor Clarence had left early, using the same lame excuse as last week. A strict routine of cleaning his high-end sex doll with antibacterial soap and lukewarm water had really hindered his surprisingly packed calendar. Another half hour passed before the door opened with a click and a creak. I could hear the lopsided tread of a person approaching and scrambled to hide my notes, petrified of the possibility of someone finding my ad-hoc sketches of engorged male rat genitals. I had sex on my mind and couldn’t help the moisture leaking from my slit, dampening the half-broken rolly chair I have parked my prune shoot on. Appearing out from behind a stack of decomposing rat corpses came Gertrude. I was pleasantly surprised. “Bertha! I’ve been looking for you.” Gertie looked good. Her sensible, orthotic Velcro sandals accentuating the strong calf muscles she had developed from years of squash and foot modelling. She was wearing a chartreuse polar fleece and adjustable-length cargo pants. I used to live for the days when she would zip off the lower portion of the trouser leg to reveal her varicose veins—sweet Jesus, she could rock a pair of shants. Seeing the look of confusion and obvious lust on my face as images of worshipping her ingrown toenails flooded my imagination, she came to stand in front of my spread knees. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you in the first row of my lecture.” Gertrude leant in, grasping both of my finely furred cheeks in her rough hands and kissed me. It was slow and tepid at first, but once I realised that my deepest sapphic desire was manifesting before my very eyes, I pulled the older woman onto my lap; allowing her to mash and grind her clitoral hood against the protruding seam of my boot-cut acid wash jeans. She moaned lustily in response. I picked her up, laying our conjoint bodies against the flame resistant benchtop, clearing the bone saws and bloody instruments of my research off. Desperate to please my former lecturer, I unsheathed her luscious lower body and dove into her flesh cabbage. Her personal musk was more of an odour – the faint tinge of onion to her love honey got me clammy in the beef curtains. I was unsure of whether it was Gertie’s first time with a woman, but after she mildly smothered me by holding my head into her drippy spaff, I ate hungrily – happy that she was finally reciprocating my desire for her.
All of a sudden, my over-the-hill mistress let out a blood-curdling scream, convulsing so violently I worried that I may have induced an epileptic seizure. Her orgasm caused a powerful squirt of juice to exude from her fanny flaps, and I endeavoured to catch it in my mouth like one might catch a grape if they threw it up in the air. As I brought my face to hers, my thin, parched lips glossed by her creamy discharge, I let her taste her desire. We pashed fervently, our tongues smashing together with little coordination and a lot of phlegm. I was eager to take my turn having my stench trench fiddled, and slid my jeans off accordingly; exuberant that I had forgone my usual unisex satin boxers. Gertie spanked my rotten peach of an ass with vigour, sliding her hand down to my cheek cleft. Instead of the chocolate starfish tickle I was expecting, the older woman let out a loud screech. My vestigial tail wiggled, the fleshy appendage responding to my nervousness. Most people didn’t have a three-inch long phallic limb attached to their sacrum. Gertie stroked him curiously, and I thought that perhaps she was starting to warm up to the idea of letting me butt-fuck her gash with my tail penis. Bertha! Bertha! Oh my God! My eyes burst open when I realised that I was being roused from a dream, and was no longer entangled with my porous lady love. Clarence was shaking my shoulder, telling me that I had fallen asleep in the lab and that the ambulance was going to be arriving soon. Confused, I reached up to wipe the sleep from my eyes only to touch a hot, wet fluid covering my face. “O-ok… don’t freak out, but…” “But what? What the fuck!” I was distraught; in shock. “One of the rats… they chewed the tip of your nose off while you were asleep…”
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With entries of this calibre, there was no doubt we’d need professionals to make the final decision. Therefore, we brought in avid erotica enthusiast Onyx Lily, and the infamous Aunty Slut of 2014 Nexus fame.
I Bake My Own Bread – 1st Place
Syntax is sexy, and a properly placed apostrophe can really get me going. Unfortunately, this piece was poorly punctuated, which distracted me from the action. For the most part, it was too much talking and not enough doing—another common problem. Cute and unexpected twist at the end. I think I’m going to avoid Subway for a while. AUNTY SLUT: Promising! There’s some good writing buried in this fairly implausible porn-esque scenario. Nice to see some safe sex making an appearance here. Kinda wish it was just the two dudes from the beginning though. A lil bit sexy. ONYX LILY:
Standard Physio Check-Up – 2nd Place
ONYX LILY: Ah, a gorgeous German with groin strain – great set up, and excellent carry through. The sex is hotter than Tiger Balm, and although German sausage isn’t my thing, this piece made my FitBit think I was exercising… Nicely done. AUNTY SLUT: This is a little Twilight for me: not because there are any vampires sparkling, but because of the terrible writing. A tiny glimmer of sexy in here, in a pre-teen, “I’ve used every synonym I can find for cock” kind of way.
The Mother of All Fucks – 3rd Place (Tie)
ONYX LILY: A salute to American Pie and all the MILFs in the world. Interesting use of narrative voice, although in the end it reads more like an extended “your mum” joke and a freshers wet dream than real erotica. The build up was good but the sex was a little disappointing. AUNTY SLUT: The following sentence is literally everything that is wrong with society: “I'd watched a fair amount of porn in my time, so I was pretty confident that I knew how to pleasure a woman’s vagina.” In fact, this whole thing reeks of someone who has never given a woman a orgasm in his life. Just no. Gross.
She – 3rd Place (Tie)
ONYX LILY: Nice setting the scene with a bit of intrigue. There’s a bit of weirdness with the narrative point of view, but overall the writing is good. The sex is quick but effective, and you can’t complain about that. More physical, sensual detail would have lifted this to greater heights. AUNTY SLUT: This is like one of those horror movies where you want to enjoy it but you spend the whole time yelling at the screen because the main character is so stupid. Why would you give this utter dudebro sex? He sounds like a complete tool. Not sexy, depressing AF.
Unplanned and Unpredictable
ONYX LILY: Nice use of the second person narration – it’s a brave choice but has potential to work well in erotic fiction. Sadly, the potential didn’t quite live up to the promise here. The prose was a little laboured and took a while to get going. And when it did get going, I didn’t. Erotica needs to give us all the details, like written foreplay, not describe it as indescribable. There were moments of real promise, but it didn’t quite deliver. AUNTY SLUT: Weird blend of ‘sexy’ and wordy observations. If you had to ‘assume’ she came, she really didn’t. Pay attention!
More than a Spin Cycle
ONYX LILY: Yikes. I think this writer may have aspirations of being the next E.L James, but despite what “Grey” would have us believe, bad writing doesn’t often a bestseller make. There are inconsistencies and spelling mistakes throughout and the actual sex is glossed over with phrases like “two hours went by rapidly” with nothing to whet our appetites. The “twist” at the end was a little lacklustre. This is less erotica and more forgotica. AUNTY SLUT: Meh.
Ratty Revenge
ONYX LILY: Um. Well. That was an experience! Clearly intended as satire rather than serious erotica, it’s a shame that the only foray into Sapphic sex in this competition didn’t fill the breach, so to speak. There were some funny moments, and the writer has a good vocabulary of euphemisms for female genitalia, but it was more vom-inducing than lust-inducing. AUNTY SLUT: For some reason, rat penises and/or rat tails used for penetration don’t really do it for me.
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The Den
Following the local election in which Lisa Lewis failed to be elected as mayor, this elite group of political activists banded together to provide each other with some much needed emotional support. However, even though the consumption of Waikato Draughts may be an aesthetic coping mechanism, Nexus would like to reiterate that alcoholism sadly won’t result in a wellknown sex worker as the local mayor.
She’s an absolute stunner, a hard worker, intrepid traveller, and unintentional heartbreaker – the type of woman who leaves a man questioning if he’s found the one. He’s a charmer; a sculpted rugby boy with an outstanding talent for good chat. Is this the start of a new era? Or will he drop his manhood before he drops a knee? HE SAID:
SHE SAID:
Right, I’ve read a few of these Nexus write ups in the past, and the one thing they all have in common is that the males never succeed… Sorry to disappoint but all bases were not reached on this occasion either. Let me paint the scene for you readers abroad. It was a chilly Tron night, having had the classic Fanta or two beforehand, I was in typical guys fashion and showed up 10 minutes late. Apologies. Upon arrival my eyes widened, wider than Kimmy K’s ‘natural’ behind when I saw that she was an easy on the eyes blondie, being a man that has a track record of blondes I knew that Nexus had well and truly done their research and was in for a goodie. Onto the formalities, chat flowed more gracefully than a fourteen-year olds bodily juices when he discovers the wonders of the internet. We exchanged the usual chit chat and continued to chip away at the bar tab. Well that’s what I thought anyway…. However, that’s when I realized she had only had a couple drinks, that’s when I thought to myself by crikey is this girl a nurse lol. It came to my attention later in the night that it was for a valid reason. Meanwhile as the bar tab was dealing to itself, we continued to interrogate each other on questionable topics and before you know it we had been there a good couple of hours. Now, I had built up the liquid courage to ask her what she was doing later on in my most gentleman like form. Credit to the lady, she had an early rise the following morning for work… Due to me not having organized a ride and definitely not being able to drive myself she very kindly dropped me back to my flat where we exchanged a friendly peck and final goodbyes were said. Absolutely loved it, all class from my date and really enjoyed getting to know ya! Until next time….Cheers Nexus.
I was a little unprepared, I didn’t have my 4 layers of Bondi Sands on, I’d just worked a 9 hour day and had only 1/2 hour after work to get ready. Every girl’s nightmare, as everyone knows that being tanned takes you from a 3/10 to at least a 7/10. So I turned up early enough to drink a full vodka cranberry to ease the nerves. Then in walks my date for the night SUCH a babe! Rugby player, muscles, 5”9, great chat, common interests & not one awkward silence. I don’t think he was into relationships much and striked me as a man that’s very “Saturdays are for the boys” and still pretty sure that statement remains true haha. After a 2 hour chat, eating food, laughing and keeping the drinks flowing, I decided that it was time to head home. As he had been dropped off & I drove, I offered to take him back to his house. With his hand on my thigh and his constant comments about wanting to steal my jersey (classic line but it was working), I drove him home. We pulled up outside his house and I went in for the hug and he went in for the kiss (awkward) But then we proceeded to have a steamy make-out session in the car and I didn’t mind that at allllll. My thoughts were that he’s a bit of a pro at this & he’s done this a couple of times, but I was liking it. He tried his hardest to get me to stay over, A+ for effort I’ll give him that! I politely declined as I had a boxing class at 5:30am the next morning... Also an excuse for him to get my number (which he did) to call me another time for maybe something a bit more. So I went home to sleep and woke up for my boxing class in the morning, but all I could think about was how I could’ve had a MUCH better cardio session if I had stayed.
Brought to you by House on Hood Street. If you’re keen for a Blind Date, email editor@nexusmag.co.nz
Leo (July 23-Aug 22) For most people, Mercury entering retrograde means the arrival of chaos, confusion, and endless suffering. For you, it renders very little contrast in a life that’s already written off as a disaster. Virgo (Aug 23-Sep 22) Tension between Venus and Saturn leaves you feeling unsure. Take note of friction, listen to your heart and make a fucking decision for once. Libra (Sep 23-Oct 22) A starry-eyed Neptune shows a path to stardom, but be sure to stay grounded. If you were destined for greatness you wouldn’t currently be living in Hamilton. Scorpio (Oct 23-Nov 21) As Mars enters the lunar phase, many around you will struggle with intense mood swings. For you though, it’s a time of prestige as you continue to experience an average of one human emotion per day. Sagittarius (Nov 22-Dec 21) Jupiter’s trance leaves you in an unusually good mood. Don’t take it for granted, as your recent change in social circles will soon become a source of immense regret. Capricorn (Dec 22-Jan 19) Generosity is running through your veins. Ignore the financial burden and buy your girlfriend some damn flowers.
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Aquarius (Jan 20-Feb 18) Our crystal ball predicts a new love interest heading your way. Reevaluate your idea of charm; intense hair flicking might make them think you have a sore neck. Pisces (Feb 19-Mar 20) Venus provides a push of encouragement in your twelfth house of hard work. Resist the urge to claim the whole group project as your own and try to cooperate for once. Aries (Mar 21-Apr 19) The position of the moon leaves you feeling powerful and prosperous. Be sure to sing your own praises at full volume; particularly if you feel others aren’t giving you the attention you think you deserve. Taurus (Apr 20-May 20) Your inviting presence draws others to you. Do your best to help those who foolishly choose to confide in you, and try a response more profound than “same.” Gemini (May 21-June 20) Our predictions see you suffering a big loss in your future unless action is taken. Swallow your pride and message her first. Cancer (June 21-July 22) Your creativity is in excess. Assessment of risk is necessary to avoid those embarrassing injuries when you show up at the A&E, so think twice before trying that new skateboard trick.
Keen for some free Burgerfuel? Simply snap us the shitfest of your student lifestyle for the chance to win. If you’ve accidentally sent us something you shouldn’t have, just email editor@nexusmag.co.nz with all the details. Prizes can be claimed from reception in the SUB (between Unimart and the gym). 39
Puzzles
CODE CRACKER 2
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Special edition MASC WORDFIND for all you ROUGH HETEROSEXUAL MEN: car parts and DIY tools.
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SIMPLE PUZZLES FOR SIMPLE PEOPLE
Spot the Difference!!!
the difference
CROSSWORD 1
2
3
4
5
6
7
ALGE-BRUH ANSWERS:
=
8
9
10
=
12
11
13
14
15
16
17
=
18
19
22
LAST WEEK’S ANSWERS:
=5
=5
WORD TWIST
U
M
H
R
B
D
X
U
E
T
D
O
M
A
S
Y
R
A
S
I
X
E
N
C
D
= 11
20
21
23
24
25
ACROSS:
DOWN:
1. Extremely cold (5) 4. Out of fashion (5) 8. Communication channel (7) 9. Crowd scene actor (5) 10. Part of a church (5) 11. Unlawful (7) 12. Natural abilities or qualities (6) 14. Conundrum (6) 18. Malleable (7) 20. Irritated (5) 22. Spear (5) 23. Acute (7) 24. Stringed instrument (5) 25. Overheads (5)
1. Chivalrous (7) 2. Guides (5) 3. Distinguish (7) 4. Writing implement (6) 5. Carapace (5) 6. Lured (7) 7. Intended (5) 13. Curt (7) 15. Ludicrous (7) 16. Interminable (7) 17. Sheep known for its high quality fleece (6) 18. Greek letter (5) 19. Paragon (5) 21. Male monarchs (5)
41
WEDNESDAY 15TH AUGUST 10AM-3PM UNIREC
LOTS OF PRIZES UP FOR GRABS!
GET IN QUICK AND REPRESENT!
INTER-FACULTY #3 FREE BBQ LUNCH FOR PLAYERS AND SUPPORTERS To register with your faculty, contact your Faculty Sport Ambassador or your faculty admin staff, or email: uowsport@waikato.ac.nz
Crafted by Relic.