One of the very excellent things about having a female cat is that I can call her “Girlfriend” and “Miss Thing” and thereby pretend that I’m in an episode of America’s Next Top Model.
She gets a little offended when I say, “Oh you did not just get all up in my weave bitch!” though.
So I went to a thing on Saturday. Or–to give it its slightly more official title–I went to see the “Petone Project by Ans Westra & Friends”. It was being filmed as part of a series called New Artland which is to screen on TVNZ 6 and–helpfully for those of us without working televisions–TVNZ OnDemand from April.
Thirteen young photographers from the Hutt were chosen by Ans Westra to take photographs en route from their homes to the Petone Foreshore. On Saturday, a photo selected from each photographer was displayed in the area along Buick Street and around the Settlers Museum.
There was of course also a parade with marching girls and a man in very tight trousers, because it was being filmed for TV and TV is one of those foreign lands where they do things very differently.
Chris Knox is the presenter for this series, and at one stage he said something to me to which I said–rather wittily-in reply, “Babble, babble, babble. Dribble. Blah blah blah.” Because my brain was going, ‘It’s Chris Knox! CHRIS KNOX! CHRIS KNOX CHRIS KNOX CHRIS KNOX. Exactly like that, only louder and with more red.
And then Other Me said, “Touch him.”
Me: I’m not going to touch him.
Other Me: Go on…
Me: I can’t just touch him.
Other Me: Ask him first then.
Me: No!
Other Me: You want to.
Me: I do not! That would be weird and creepy.
Other Me: Well sure. But when you’re 80, sitting in your rocking chair in front of the fire with your tribe of cats gathered around you, wouldn’t you like to be able to tell them the story of the time you touched the man who wrote the song in the Vogels ad?
Me: Well yeah, little bit.
Other Me: Do it then!
Me: No! Or at least maybe I’ll wait until he’s not looking…
The most gorgeous and creative set of toy animal photos.
As opposed to the facetitious way in which I photograph my toy animals. Oh to be a creative genius.
So, those people who wait until they’re on the bus before they get their wallet out–how is anyone that stupid still alive? Shouldn’t natural selection have deselected them?
I hate the term “vintage”. It seems to have been repurposed by the snob classes to distinguish themselves from poor people who buy secondhand (ugh–how distasteful darling) out of necessity.
This is my cat. She is secondhand.
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