A few weeks ago I wrote about a bunch of CDs I was dealing with at work that smelt like curry, remember? Well, they weren't the only ones. The unmistakable spicy aroma arose again today, this time from Powderfinger singer Bernard Fanning's new solo album. What is with this? WHY DO SOME NEW CDS REEK OF CURRY!? It seems a couple of other people in the world have found this with the odd CD as well (scroll about half way down the page). So odd.

So we got the new place on Dead Dog Road. So called, cause when we were up here looking at this place before we moved in, we wandered down this road and there was a dead dog lying on the footpath, and we didn't know what it was actually called. And now, it's our street. Yay. I suppose it beats living on Dead Junkie Road.

I'm gonna go watch more Seinfeld now!

Sometimes when you have livejournal/blog like this, you kinda want to say so much, but realise it's far too much to fit in one post; mainly cause you've just spent an hour writing an email about the same crap and don't want to have to type it all out again.

Sometimes, cause someone's already said it all before, much more eloquently (wow, that sentence is the definition of irony).

But for those who are following this micro-drama, today I hung out with a guy, Martin, who claims to be the 'registered' tenant; ie, the guy whose name it is on the forms. He did appear to be aware of what kind of person dead guy was, but seemed casually relaxed and together for a guy who legally should probably be in a lot of trouble. Kosh, AKA Mr Meowgi, even turned up for a pat-fest.

So blah... Randoms won't know what the hell I'm on about, and I'll just direct myself to the particular email if I want the whole story in the future :)

Tariqa should be home any second now with an awesome new haircut... done by student hairdressers. Cause we're that poor. So poor I biked all the way to Greenlane to deliver the angry letter to the property managers this morning... and almost got run over and beaten up doing it.

Some guy in a nice car kept creeping over towards where I was on my bike, on K Rd, and seemed indifferent to my presence... I lightly rapped his closed window with my knuckles to let him know I was there, and shouted in futile frustration, 'fucking watch out!'. He got the message, and stopped closing in, I biked to the front of the queue at the lights, two cars ahead of where he was. Green, I went, the cars came too, eventually he got in front of me and pulled over to cut me off, winding his window down. A brief conversation ensued, basically consisting of, from my end, 'you almost fucking ran me over!?' and from his end, 'i'm gonna fuck you up,' and exaggerations about his precious automobile. When he got out of his car, I thought, well, uh-oh... and began biking away. He moved as if to chase, then jumped back into his car and started it up quickly. I managed to sneak around the bend on K Rd and down Heather's side street before his (obviously piece of shit) car got going, and managed to hide in a car park for a minute or so before my heartbeat settled... and I set off again, on my epic journey into Greenlane, and past the boarding school I once almost enrolled in (Dilworth).

I was going to make a massive post about this.. but tea is on, and minimal and cheap as it may be, it smells nice. I want to eat it.

Whenever I sit down to write one of these things, I forget what it was that I was going to write about. If anything.

I made Tariqa watch Planet Of The Apes last night, and she laughed at all the requisite moments. Well, most. Obviously I'm the only one who finds 'it's a madhouse, a MAAADHOUSE!' remotely funny. Hmmm, she just laughed when I mentioned it myself; does this mean I'm a better actor than Charlton Heston? Actually, that wouldn't be hard... though he was funnier thatn I remember. Been a while since I saw it last.

Now when I get some money, I'll be off to the video store to rent out Beneath, Escape From, Conquest Of, and Battle For The Planet Of The Apes. YAY! The greatest five-part movie series in history.

You know what customers I hate at work? Ones who come in and say dumb shit, like this guy did today. "Hey, do you know much about dance music? Because I was in my mate's car, and he was playing some drum'n'bass, downbeat stuff. Do you have that?' Err, downbeat drum'n'bass? Isn't that like Rammstein doing an acoustic ballad, or a good house record? i.e it doesn't exist?

tariqa is laying the smackdown on the property managers. Check it out. Last time I wrote a letter like that, it was a rebuttal of some claims made against me while I was at uni. It was 20 pages of rebuttal and evidence, in response to half a page of lies someone had submitted to the uni's disciplinary committee. I'll write about it in detail one day I suppose...

I'm all out of ideas as to what to write about!

So... I was going to blog about the recalling of Fast Crew's (now illegal) album Set the Record Straight and the NZ Idol conspiracy, but what the hell. We got home today and found out our neighbours (in the same villa complex thingee) had their laptop stolen today, likely by associates of the deceased junkie that used to live upstairs. I don't want to leave the house empty now... tried convincing Tariqa that her hours at work were worth more than mine, so if one of us should stay here to guard everything, it should be me, but as she noted, neither of us can really afford not to go to work, which sucks. Sooo... I finally found a use for the $5 cricket set I bought a number of months ago, but never had anyone to play with; extra security on the vertical windows. And as for the extensive amount of music gear and computers and things... I figure anyone robbing a house is going to be in a hurry, and won't bother looking in places like I WAS GOING TO SAY ON THE INTERWEBS!!! My thief-thwarting skills will stay secret!

Rang the property manager, who seems to be conveniently not answering her phone when we ring, all week... tried her again an hour later, still nothing, so left a none-too-subtle message, basically telling her we'd be withholding rent if she doesn't get in touch. The neighbours spoke to the landlord, and reckon he'll back us up in any tenancy tribunal dealings, which'd be nice. Will call her again in the morning I suppose.

So anyway... NZ band the Fast Crew have had their album pulled from shelves due to an uncleared sample... which is funny, cause we just returned all of our copies anyway cause no one was buying them.

And Rosita Vai's piece of crap still sits at #1 in the NZ chart; not bad for a song no one's buying, and that doesn't seem to play anywhere.

It's late now. And I planned to go to bed early. I suppose, in a way, I still am. 12am early.

Next to, but not necessarily to be confused with...

Once again, I don't really have much to say I suppose, but I'll drag it out anyway... Tariqa pulled a sickie today, so I had help cleaning the house. Help, and a distraction from... but while doing the fourth load of washing, I found a Tintin in Tibet t-shirt I had no idea Tariqa even owned. So if that fits me, I might wear it to work, you never know, we may sell some more Tintin box sets as a result.

Ooh, I forgot to rant about yesterday's flat inspection bollocks. Well, I was in the middle of recording a difficult keyboard part on a new song I'm demoing called This Now, and this lady starts banging on the door. I open it, she comes in, saying she's from the realtors and is here for the flat inspection; I tell her we didn't recieve any letter notifying us of an inspection... the house is a mess, cause today was designated tidy and clean day. So despite this, she barges through, and begins taking notes and pointing out what was wrong with the place. I'm like, well, as I said, we didn't get any notice, and I was planning to clean and tidy tomorrow, so of course it's a mess. She goes through the entire house, turns and leaves on the bedroom light, then asks, 'do yous not work at all?' Oh, and tells us to clean the house more often. Like she knows how often I do... then, some random dog waltzes in, and she begins patting him, as if he's hers, or lives here, or something! So after letting her know we don't have a dog, I shoo him out, then wonder out aloud where the cat is...suddenly, she's all, 'are you allowed to have a cat?!' Er, you seemed you OK with the giant labrador, lady... then as she leaves, to add insult to insult, she asks that, 'next time please clean the house before the inspection.' Er, I told you many times we didn't know about any inspection, but okay! Turns out they sent us a letter a week ago, that was sitting out in the 'communal' letterbox with no numbers on it that no one in this building actually uses, cause we don't have our own. I shouldn't have let her in, I suppose. Meh. That keyboard part took ages to record too, after that interruption.

I threw up some posters I got from work a few weeks ago and had forgotten about... A couple of X&Ys, Gwen Stefani... better than nothing. I hate walls with nothing.

The Warehouse in Newmarket sucks. I couldn't find teatowels, seed raising mix, pegs or blu-tack. What a lame Warewhare. Or a lame sense for finding household necessities I have.

I can smell nail polish. Tariqa must be overdoing it...

Oh, before I go. The new Franz album apparently has leaked onto the net; is it OK to download an album if you plan to buy it anyway?