- Years ago a bunch of my flatmates and friends and I went and played Laser Strike (aka. laser tag) at Megazone on the weekend. Before I tell you the rest of the story you have to take several things into consideration – firstly, I hadn’t played laser strike since I was a kid, secondly, I was playing in a team with extreme boys, including my xbox-obsessed, pretty competitive boyfriend and our flatmate with the same love for gaming. We were losing against a team of 8-12 year old boys, partly due to the fact that I wasn’t scoring any points. People were getting frustrated – I mean, it’s kind of humiliating when a bunch of kids are owning you in a game, and when one of your team members sucks (ie. me), it can be pretty stressful. I was feeling panicked, and in a brief mental and moral lapse I decided that it would be a good idea to go hard for the one target I knew I could gain points off: a 3 year old boy. I followed that boy around for a good 6 minutes before realising that I was the biggest piece of shit person of all time. Three years old, being followed and shot at by a twenty-something psycho girl. He wasn’t even on his own, he was being led around the maze with his dad. Completely shameful.
- I used to drink out of the bottle on the reg at my old flat. Sorry guys.
- When I was 15, near the end of year in the middle of school exams my friend Kate and I decided it would be a great idea to get our bellybuttons pierced. For YEARS I had that thing, several years. Even when I started hating it I kept the barbell thing in because I had grown some kind of weird attachment to it and was scared of what would happen if I took it out. Kate was the first to cave, I followed straight after. And not a moment too soon. I still have the scar, and I’m pretty sure the hole hasn’t closed up, it’s just like that forever. Every time I look down at it I feel disgust.
- When I was 7 or 8 years old in Room 7 at primary school, I used to get given white Tip-Top bread, butter and ham sandwiches for lunch pretty much every day.( To this day I cannot eat one.) I also used to get a little bag of chips or a cookie, and some kind of fruit. This one particular day was a banana. I didn’t want to eat my banana but I had been forewarned by my mother that if I weren’t to consume it, I would be in big trouble. The teachers were pretty onto it too. I remember once trying to throw my banana in the bin and being reprimanded for it and made to eat it anyway. So anyway, I had a plan. I got my stupid banana and I took it into the girls bathroom and I flushed it down the toilet. No evidence! Or so I thought. Within a couple of hours, it was made clear that the girls bathrooms in our block were, well, blocked. The plumbing was fucked. The teachers were fucked off. They made everyone stay in so they could ask who had put something down the loo. I stayed silent. This went on for a while, and just as I was getting extreme guilt and about to confess, some kid said they’d seen this other girl eating a banana at lunchtime near the bathrooms. She denied it. They reprimanded her anyway. I never spoke up. I am the worst.
- One time I kissed another boy when I was dating a guy named Matt. I would’ve been about 18 or 19. I never told Matt, partly because I didn’t feel that guilty and partly because I didn’t want to deal with the consequences. You may be happy to know that karma exists because he found out when I was in the bathroom and he was snooping in my room and read it in my diary.
- Oh yeah, I had a diary. :-/
Archive for the 'Oh.' Category
This week’s run training can be summed up in one word: fail, or two words: ultimate fail. It started off okay, I went for a run with Maddy on Tuesday. The last time I went with Maddy she owned me. This time, it was me that was pushing her along. What a change! What a surprise! I was secretly pretty pleased. It meant that things were in motion, that the training was working. Nike Training Schedule! Who would’ve thought?
Fast forward to Thursday in Wellington where I was holed up in my hotel, severely behind in work and severely pressed for time. I decided to do a treadmill run. Someone told me that running on the treadmill was easier than running outside. Boy were they wrong. Running on a treadmill is f*cking boring. Granted, I did forget my headphones. This made a huge difference. Running in a small room with a big mirror and CNN on the tv and an older man on the machine next to you and no music is severely demotivating. Firstly, where the hell are you going? Nowhere. And it’s like if you were running that many steps outside, you would be going way further, but on the treadmill you just have to go faster to go further. I can’t explain it. Anyway, it sucks. Plus I’m pretty sure that man was looking at my screen and seeing that I had my speed on a lowly 7-10 for most of it. Screw that guy man, he doesn’t know me! Damnit. I ended up only going 4.3km according to my Nike+ app, or 3.8km according to the treadmill. No one will ever know which was more accurate.
Yeah okay, so you may have heard that I’m learning to run. That’s a weird phrase, right? ‘Learning to run’. I mean, I know how to run, it’s just I can’t actually do it for very long. I’m not overweight or anything (thanks to good genes), so I think people assume I do some kind of exercise. They are very, very wrong. I think I’ve been to yoga eight times over the last eight months (I know this because I bought a 10 session card which expired after 6 months and I never used the whole thing) and also on three walks. That’s the extent of my exercise. The last time I ran was like, 10 years ago and it’s because I was forced to do cross country at school, but never again. I did run to Imax two months ago when I was late for a movie and we had parked like three streets away. The person I was with gave me shit about how I looked like I couldn’t control my arms and legs – kind of like a baby horse – and that I was going to collapse, but that doesn’t count. This is real running.
So, I’m signed up to run 10km at Nike’s ‘She Runs the Night‘ event in Sydney on the 4th of May. That gives me about 5 weeks to learn how to run further than from Lorne Street to Imax without keeling over. I’m not doing this entirely alone though. Nike has given me a little training schedule, aimed to get me to be able to survive the race by the time the day comes ’round.
Yeah, it’s Thursday. No, this blog hasn’t been updated all week. Who knows why. It’s not even for lack of content or anything. In an effort to motivate and explain myself whilst also rectifying the situation, I have compiled a list of terrible excuses as to why I have basically been the worst blogger of all time:
- I have signed myself up for a Nike 10km run, held in 6 weeks time. This in itself does not actually have much to do with not blogging, but the fact that I have never run before (aside from Cross Country through Intermediate and the start of High School) means that I am kind of screwed. Much of my usual blogging time needs to go into learning how to do this. In an effort to minimise embarrassment on the day, I am making a semi-concerted effort to train, which I hope will turn into a concerted effort soon. The schedule starts Monday with a 3km Nike Run Club run. As preliminary ‘get in some extra kilometres before all the others’ practise, I decided to test out my new Lunar Glides and go for a run/walk (mostly walk) to and up Mount Eden. I got to the entrance and half way up before I quit and came back down and totted off home to eat ice-cream. Not exactly a success story, but you know what? I left the fricken house for once okay? Keep an eye out for my weekly progress updates, starting next week.
- I can’t find any of my SD cards. I think my brother has one, but where are the others? No SD card = No photos = Difficult blogging.
- I cleaned my room, which took probably a total of 11 blogging hours of thinking about, and 5 blogging hours of actually doing.
- Yesterday I had a shower and then I went downstairs and tripped over on the tiles because they were wet. I looked up and there was water steadily dripping from the ceiling. So, yeah, that had to be dealt with.
- I have too many emails and other ‘urgent’ things to deal with. When you haven’t responded to someone’s email from 2 months ago, things get awkward man. Trust me.
- I’ve been writing a lot for some other paid job that I can’t talk about. Mad writing. Like, thousands of words a week. So much thought involved, so draining. But it’s paid, so yeah. Anyway, my point is, writing many, many small articles a week does not inspire one want to write more in addition.
The #bloglife is sweet. I’m not complaining at all. It’s nice to have no routine and the ability to do what you want, when you want, to get invited to nice events and to see nice things and occasionally receive nice gifts. Yeah, getting paid doesn’t happen so much if at all, and the predictable unpredictability gets old (as well as feeling like you have to justify what you to do people all day long), but that’s all part of it and if this is what you choose to do, this is what you get. The other day, to keep things interesting and to celebrate the dropping of the new/current Karen Walker collection, Maddy and I stopped by the showroom to shoot our own little Winter 2013 lookbook of some of our favourite pieces. It was a huge session of dress-ups and as you can imagine, it was the best time ever! Like shopping, without the money problems and with crazy poses instead.
Most of these items are in store right now, or will be soon. The blue version of the pointed court shoes (shown in brown in these pictures) have already sold out in a size 39, so if you’re wanting anything from ‘Fantastique Magnifique’, you’d better hurry the hell up. More below, and because we got a bit carried away, even more on my photo diary, here.
Being the 25th of December and all, I’m feeling pressure to write something sentimental and inspirational. A round-up of the year, a thank you, something up-beat and motivating. In reality, this year Christmas just feels like any other day so I’ve got no silly season speech for you. Blame it on my unstructured lifestyle, lack of tree and Christmas-y decorations or even the unseasonably warm Auckland weather, but right now I’m feeling very ‘oh okay, Christmas, yeap, what else is going on?’
This is starting to sound decidedly depressing. Trust me, it’s not meant to be that way at all. I don’t usually like to share that many details about my family but I get asked about them a bit and I guess a little bit about them won’t hurt, so here goes a Christmas day in the life of Katherine Lowe: