Top Reads and Andrew Goes to Hot Yoga!

Monday 12th March

It's Raining, It's Pouring, it's time to ... read a book!

The lettuces are looking good, my basil is flourishing, I want not for salad during these strange rainy days.

The Toscat is curled up asleep near my feet. Ran out of cat biscuits and so opened up the 'homebrand' sardines for her, which, I've discovered, are best as cat food anyway.

Applied for another job, and got a really funny and uplifting rejection from another! I'd taken a risk and written a completely different style of application letter (I attempted to be funny by being too honest). The guy wrote back, saying that I was a nutcase, which was exactly what they were looking for, but unfortunately 'a few other fairies already applied' and so the position was taken. Still. A pretty good response. Thus encouraged, I am now going to apply for any job I deem a little out of my league in the same manner. Onwards fellow soldiers who languish in the trenches of unemployment or some kind of stinky job you don't like. Take some risks!

My top reads of the last four months

In no particular order:

Sherry Cracker Gets Normal , DJ Connell. Fiction

From the first line, the intriguing tale of Sherry Cracker had me 'falling in love'. You know that feeling, the book that has you wishing it would never end. Sherry Cracker is told by her boss, Mr Chin, to 'get normal' by Monday.

"The idea of normality was flashing in my mind's eye like the rotating beacon of a lighthouse as I made my way down the office stairs. The stair well was pitch dark but I knew the width and squeak of every stair by heart. I used to run up and down the stairs until Mr Chin forbade it: 'This run, run, run get on my nerve. Walk up stair at normal human speed or forget interesting and exciting job.'

(Chapter 4, page 29)

I’m Perfect, You’re Doomed by Kyria Abrahams. Memoir

Fantastic memoir about growing up in the Jehovah's Witness church. This is really funny and tragic at the same time. I imagine a young Janeane Garofalo the whole time I'm reading it, and I think my favourite part has to be about Smurfs being demons. There's this story about how a child took a soft toy smurf into a JW Kingdom Hall and that it came to life and started screaming obscenities as it ran from the hall. It then burst into flames. Praise be to Jehovah.

Brida, Paulo Coelho.Fiction.

You've got to be in the right mood to read Pauly. Fortunately this was the case when I picked up Brida. It's easy to read, very fairy tale like, leaving me with a good feeling about soul mates and what that term might mean. You feel like going around saying things in a knowing voice after reading it. Irritate family and friends with your increased wisdom.

When You Are Engulfed In Flames, David Sedaris (audio, memoir)

Well suck a monkey if you don't already know how much I LOVE David Sedaris. That's very white of me evidently. I can live with that. I got this from the library (man I love how you can order things from any library around Auckland, it's amazing!) and played it in the car all the time. He has an unusual voice (if you've read 'Me Talk Pretty One Day' then you'll know all about it), somewhat nasal and high pitched. It matters not when you listen to him describing various scenarios; again, I never wanted it to end. I could listen to , or read, this kind of thing ALL THE TIME.

Naked, David Sedaris. Memoir.

More good memoirs from Sedaris. Reliable read for all settings. Must have on long plane journeys.

Magical Thinking, Augusten Burroughs. Memoirs.

Augusten Burroughs is also an amazing memoirist in a similar vein to Sedaris. They differ in that Sedaris often goes into greater detail and is the 'educated one', whereas Burroughs loves to remind us of how uneducated and abused he's been. This is where Burroughs is master. He makes the harrowing shit actually pretty amazing, funny and interesting to read about. He is open about how shallow he can be, but instead of making you hate him, it makes you love him all the more. I love him.

Dry, Augusten Burroughs. Memoir.

This is (as the title suggests) about Burroughs journey into sobriety. A friend pointed out that people who belong to AA aren't supposed to publicise it, but I think it's a good thing. I reckon this book will help a lot of people. As usual, he's able to take a really difficult issue and treats it with a measure of humour and tenderness that has me longing for his next book.

So duckies, those are my top picks in recent months. I swear (with the exception of Brida) that you'll enjoy all of these!

Ho-kay. Cat is cleaning herself. Day is weird and damp.

Andrew Does Hot Yoga

I told him not to eat anything before we went in, that it makes it difficult, but he decided to have a panini and a smoothie. He was right royally fucked. He did put in a good effort for the first 15 to 20 minutes, but that heat really does take some adjusting to. Now that he knows what it's like, he'll be able to do more the next time. The main goal of the first class is to just make it through without leaving the room. That's 90 minutes of sweating like a bitch, but the reward is massive.

I still find some of the poses really hard to do, and I can't say I ever leave a class thinking 'well that was an easy one'. It really is one of those things that you can't explain. You just have to do it. Well, hunger is gnawing at my puku like a small rodent, so it must be time for a Freedom Farms sausage with a poached free range egg and salad from the garden. Yum.

Oh, and last night Suzanne and I went and had drinks. We went to Chapel Bar, and my god, what is going on with that place? The DJ played 'My Way' by Frank Sinatra and I got excited and asked if he was about to mix Sid Vicious into it. "Yeah, yeah," he slurred fatly, "that's exactly what I'm gonna do". Fuck him. He was being sarcastic. You can't be that ugly and also be mean. Oh wait. I guess you can.

Suzanne and I danced around anyway. There was this really hot girl who danced like a stripper, she wore black and white striped socks up to the knee with black high heels and a tight, short black dress. She kept smiling and looking at herself in the big mirror on the wall. I don't think she was a prostitute, but if she is, I bet she's making a lot of money.

A guy called Mike introduced himself. He was one of the many very drunk clientele, quite cute, blonde and well dressed, barely able to stand.

"Do you have a man" he smiled into my face, putting his arm around me.

"Not a permanent one" I replied, "what about you?"

"I proposed to my girlfriend two weeks ago!"

"Wow, congratulations! Where is she?"

"Uh, I dunno, around here somewhere."

"Was she the girl with long brown hair that spoke to you before?"

"Nah, she's got really blonde hair. The thing is, we're both just as fucked up as each other."

"Mike, that's beautiful" I replied.

He laughed with delight.

"And just think, when it all gets too much, you can both attend Narcotics Anonymous, and then you could write a book. You could call it 'Sober Together'."

He really liked that, laughing his arse off. Obviously he won't remember any of it and he and The Blonde Fiancee probably went home to have unsuccessful drunken sex.

Suzanne and I danced to the point of sweating, then went to SPQR and got a hot chocolate, only it wasn't very hot, and the service was cold.

"He's a failed model" I said to Suzanne "and he resents having to be a waiter. He can't understand why he didn't get that last job because he's SO GOOD LOOKING."

When Suze went to the bathroom I listened to the very loud one sided conversation to the right of me.

"It's not those built up guys who have a big one. It's the tall skinny ones, and then it's like they've got this third leg."

I would love to have joined in on this observation, but instead contented myself with listening and looking at how the streetlight picked up the softly falling rain.

May your day be blessed. May your lettuces yield many leaves (get planting if you haven't already) and may your heart be full of peace. Moo moo. xxx