It's about time we updated this thing...

Damn right it's about time... we could apologize for not updating this, but if there's one thing we've learned about kiwi culture thus far, it's the importance of being straightforward. Down here cigarettes come with labels that say SMOKING WILL KILL YOU. Highways are lined with warnings that say SPEEDING WILL KILL YOU. Even the zoo posts signs that would scare most children I know...

So we're not apologizing. Very simply, we've become locals... and as such, are very busy. And when we're not hard at work, we roll through town just like in a Fat Freddys Drop video. That being said, however, a blog post is well overdue. Unfortunately for those of you keeping stats back home, so much has happened since we last did this that rankings have gone out the window. This will be just the facts... most of them.

Dunne -
Finally swayed by the temptation of the sedentary life, Dunne has traded his drink-slinging days at Molly's for the quiet pastures of cubicle life and a love-hate relationship with Sky Movies 2. Preceded by a slightly panicked trip to the department store and an online 'how-to-tie-a-necktie' session... Dunne has returned to the office...only thing missing is the button-maker.


Calvert -
Still pulling double-duty in town and currently in the on-deck cirlce at Basement Bar, waiting to take the reigns as duty manager, Calvert seemingly has his shizz together. Purveyor of discounted (read: free) drinks, his responsibilities now include being Shock's boss (or as Shock maintains...partner). Proving that it's ok to work for the Establishment and have a career in the Basement...


Charlie -
Just as Dunne's spending less time at Molly's, Charlie is spending more...though he's still firstly and foremostly the man behind the bar...emphasis on the man... at Mac's Brewery, though we'll have serious questions about his clout if he charges his parents full-price when they show up next week. Or is it this week? Oh crap, maybe they're already here. We need to clean.

Shock -
Just left the pad to work his last night at Electric Avenue... Shock's been playing the professional field. Now part-time at Basement (see above comment) and full-time at Mac's Brewery. While the hours are much better (no more getting home at 6am...from work, that is), he'll admittedly miss the nightly parade of hen parties fighting for his attention. Oh...and they're still talking about his amazing Guac in the Big K's Kitchen.


Trainer -
Having graduated from glassy to goon squad, Trainer is now officially gone with the wind...and by wind we mean girlfriend. Currently somewhere on the South Island; we're hoping he left a trail of wine bottles to find his way back. Follow the journey on the 500-photo web album.




Steve -
With Trainer down South and Charlie off the Couch, the Terrace had room to spare...and rent to cover. Enter Steve. Steve from Chicago. Worked at Molly's, introduced Dunne to the idea of temp-agency-office-work, and played the guitar (that, presumably, he still does) He's gone now...headed back to the States... we'll miss him. Not to worry, though...he's applying to SSCC.

Morgan -
Still cultivating the Kiwi cut... Morgan's been clocking significant hours at work. His presence is now referred to by management as quote-unquote indispensable. Not sure how that happened...but it comes with a lot of free Export Gold Extra Cold and it's a sub-5-minute walk from the Terrace, so no one's complaining. He is, however, looking forward to sleeping in a bed someday... someday.



So there you have it. All (most) of it. Time to hit the town.

One of these things is not like the other...

One of us had to do it eventually. Oh, and those shades fell off a passing bus.

It's a Party

The Wellington 7's came to town. The Superbowl passed through. The girls had a simultaneous birthday. This town is absolutely buzzing and beautiful. We're trying to keep up. We're trying to stay on our feet.

The 7's were a mix of a San Francisco Castro Halloween, a New York New Years, and an Amsterdam vacation... with a bit of the World Cup thrown in. People were stumbling over car hoods, dropping their flags meant to be dresses, and walking through town in their underwear. Everywhere. Check out this account.

It's too nuts to keep up. The place was a circus show. It IS a circus show. We've got beautiful days on the beach followed by nights trying to avoid the gang of bikers with handlebars attached to their pelvises.

So Wellington keeps its promise to us and we're content. It's a good show. So long as we've got the Superbowl on the telly, the girls in bikinis on the streets, and the locals in the over-the-shoulder thongs, we can say we're having a decent time. Struggle though we might through the clear skies, the windswept clouds, and the bronzed beauties, we're going to make as much of a go of it as we can. It's a continuous struggle against entropy.

So maybe we're enjoying a minute or two of this dull, lifeless, fluorescent light-bulb life. But it's not easy. We've got bills, we've got jobs, we've got commitments. We're serious adults here. So what if it's our job to police and serve alcohol to half-naked girls and men dressed as nurses? We gotta make a buck, right? Rough life. We can't wait till we're tied up in neck-tie nooses and black corporate-suits. Free life in the South Pacific is miserable. So we'll do what we can. Men can only hope for so much.