37.
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This week I escaped the hood for the bright lights of the big city.
Unfortunately I realised slash remembered that I’m not incredibly gifted at being able to cram lots of socialising into short periods.
I have an emotional overload threshold, and when that reaches its limits, I’m out.
You can talk til the cows come home. And you may even think I’m listening. But inside I am dead. My eyes have glazed over. And I’m delivering obligatory “Uh huh”’s, and “Mmm”’s, and I’m not even being sincere in their delivery…
Basically, I just switch off. Please leave a message, BEEEEEEEEEEEP.
Chances are I probably won’t check that message either.
No pictures this week folks. What I have to say doesn't need them.
*
COMMUNING WITH THE DEAD:
Yesterday I had an old woman come into my work. I recognised her as the doddery old woman I’d had to chase down the street one day as she’d forgotten to pay for her lunch. Trust me, this was Not an enjoyable experience, especially as she was having to hand me over every last coin she seemed to have on her, and even THEN I let her off a few dollars simply because I wanted to end the fleecing of the old woman.
ANYWAY, the same old woman came in again, and had a look at the lunch menu, and ooh’d and aaah’d over a few items, and decided on some “Nat-cho’s?”, before saying “I think I’ve got enough money for that” before studiously counting out eight dollars in coins and informing me that she was to get 50 cents change…
I smiled nicely and told her she was correct, and gave her the change, and thought to myself ‘Most people, DEAR, would check FIRST that they had enough money to go out for lunch before going out to lunch’. And I then inwardly scolded myself for being so intolerant of doddery old woman, steeled my reserve a bit more, and showed her to a table by the fire.
She then whipped out an eftpos card and ordered a double whiskey.
I often wonder at times like those if I should question the customer on things like “Are you allowed to be drinking?” or “You’re not taking any medications that alcohol might impair are you?”, but I recognise that questions like that shouldn’t be reserved for doddery old woman alone, and if it was good enough for her it was good enough for everyone, and seeing as it is actually Totally Inappropriate of me to ask those questions to ANY customer, I silently poured her a whiskey, straight up. She tipped that back like nobody’s business, and then continued to stare at me and stand at the bar.
I asked if she would like anything else, and she said “Aren’t I getting my lunch?”
“Yeah, but it’s not actually ready yet. I’ll bring it over to you when it is.”
“Does it take forever to make or something?”
At that point the meal bell rang and I said “Actually, it’s ready now, take a seat,” and brought it over to her and told myself again that I had to be more tolerant of doddery old woman.
This isn’t hard to do, as I have a Grandfather will Alzheimers, so I’ve recognised that my tolerance needs to increase greatly in my many areas of INtolerance.
So she sat down and ate her lunch… and promptly proceeded to fall asleep at her table.
I had been busy while she ate, so when I looked over and saw her asleep I was kind of surprised. When did that happen? Damn, now I have to wake her up.
Instead of going over to her though, I just made some gentle clinking noises with the glasses in the dishwasher, hoping that would stir her.
It did, and she slowly sat up, seemingly waking up, and then started to leave.
“Thank you, that was lovely.” She said.
“You’re very welcome.”
“My husband and I used to come in here…” she said.
‘Oh great, here we go’, I thought heartlessly.
“…but… he died, so... I like coming in here… it has some good memories... Thank you.” And off she wandered in her whiskey haze...
As I watched her leave I realised she hadn’t been sleeping at all. She had merely been communing with her dead husband…
I reminded myself that next time she comes in, I must be more tolerant.
*
BRIGHT CITY LIGHTS:
I saw a few bright lights while in Wellington.
Light Number One: I am Not FRIENDS with My Ex. I simply have a long standing dependency on their company – 99% of the reason I left Welly. To break myself free of the habit of them.
Stupidly, I dropped into their house on the way home from a party one night. Thankfully I dragged two REAL friends of mine along for the ride (it was on our way).
I was instantly surprised by, and introduced to, the Ex’s new boyfriend. Their new, very young boyfriend. Cough cough Shudder.
BRIGHT SHINING LIGHTS of realisation shone upon me. Oh yeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaah… THAAAAAT’S why I need to stay away from this house!
I was very nice, very polite, stayed for a drink, left… and vowed never to go back.
And I felt Ok about this too! I think the spell had finally broken. No, not I think… I Know.
Unfortunately I had to go back the next day and get something I’d left behind, but I made it short and sweet.
My defining thought on this matter was that IF we really were Just Mates, then why did they feel the need to Not Tell Me about their new beau? Especially considering as they’d told all their other mates... hmm?
Whatever. It really doesn’t bother me that much. It was like a wonderful haze lifting and flooding me with warm, FREEING light.
And Boy do I like sunning in it.
Light number Two involved an unhinged friend on an unwarranted frenetic character attack, but I won’t go into that. It was ridiculous and ultimately kind of boring. Plus, I have bigger fish to fry…
*
THE GREAT CARTERTON KIDNAPPING CAPER:
This is an issue close to my heart… hence, I will probably end up being quite heartless about what I’m about to say.
Back in April my niece (my cousins’ daughter) on her way home from school, was approached by a teenager in school uniform in a car telling her “Your Mum’s in trouble, you have to come with me”.
She, being Not Stupid (thank god), said No Way and ran home to her perfectly Not-In-Trouble Mother to tell her all about the guy who’d tried to kidnap her.
This was one in a spate of attempted child abductions in the area at the time. They arrested another man in Masterton for the same thing, and for a while we thought that maybe the case was closed…
Until a couple of weeks ago, when a 14 year old girl on her way to school was suddenly pushed into a car and abducted. The girl screamed at him to let her go, before throwing herself from the vehicle, breaking her wrist and splitting her forehead open in the process.
Yesterday I had the good fortune to meet the guy who happened to be driving behind the car when this happened. At first he thought it was just some arsehole who’d thrown his Mrs from the car, but when the girl told him that she’d just been kidnapped he took her to the police station.
Not long afterwards a friend of mine happened to be walking down that street, and came across a phone and a wallet, which she handed into the police station.
The phone was the girls. The WALLET was His.
Connect the dots and Wa La – Psycho gets caught.
Then the real questions started being asked, and of course in a town like this, everyone knew who this kid was within two days. And rather than the expected “KILL HIM” response, it turns out this kid is from a good home, had a good upbringing, has good, respected parents… Suddenly the humanising factor hits home. This kid is clearly sick in the head and needs help.
Two weeks ago he was sent to Rimutaka Prison on remand, pending a psychological assessment. This assessment was deliberately avoided and on Wednesday this sick kid who is getting no help whatsoever has been sent back home on bail with a 24 hour curfew – ie. he can’t leave the house.
The Mad Scorpion is NOT happy about this.
Yes, I can understand that he will be slaughtered in Prison, and that perhaps isn’t going to achieve much.
Yes, I can understand that he is sick and needs help.
But No, I cannot understand why the Law has failed the victims of this case in favour of making sure this sick kid is… what, Safe and Comfortable?? That same right has not been afforded to this kid’s victims, some of whom live not far down the road from him…
I am utterly FURIOUS about this, and I know that if my cousin was in the country at the moment, this kids’ safe house would probably go up in flames in the middle of the night. And not many people would blink an eyelid either.
I don’t think they should lock this kid in jail and throw away the key, but I do think he needs serious help, and being babysat by Mum and Dad at home is hardly the answer.
Is one of them going to stay awake 24/7 to keep an eye on him, or are they going to take 12 hour shifts…
Somehow I doubt it.
As do I doubt that there is constant police surveillance on their house either.

This kid has messed with very dangerous forces and if his family and the justice system doesn’t deliver on helping him get FIXED… Then the small town lynch mob will kick in to Fix him.
This I know, because I will be at the front of the pack next to my cousin baying for his blood.
NOBODY FUCKS with MY Whanau’s tamariki.
NO-ONE.
*
A NEW RECRUIT:
And on the Tamariki front, after an almost totally bullshit Tuesday, it was topped off with the wonderful news that one of my best friends Tara FINALLY had her overdue baby - a beautiful daughter named Luisa Iris.
Welcome to life Luisa!
Uncle Scorpie's got your back.
Another Cheeky Darkie for the team...
Love it.
*

36.
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I'M IN MIAMI, BITCH!



Ok, I'm not really in Miami, nor do I have any immediate plans to go there (oh, but go there I will, one day, for sure), but I sure do feel like the stars are finally aligning for me... Here's the buzz.

Remember a while ago I posted a story on here, the tv show idea I'd ditched after being rejected by almost every television production company in the country? Yeah, you know the one.


WELL... the key word in that sentence is... 'almost'...

Last week, out of the blue, I get a letter from a woman at Great Southern productions (makers of 'The Cult')......who 1. apologises for the lengthy delay in replying to my pitch, and explains there have been some staff changes at G.S. recently and the pitch inbox had been left unchecked for a while,
2. Now that she's looked at the pitch inbox, she likes my idea and wants me to send her further material...

Uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh.... WHAT???

So I sit there, shitting my pants for a bit, wondering if I'm dreaming (I can tell by the inane librarian chatter in the background that I'm not), then proceed to go home and freak out for a bit, and then when I finally get it together I take a look at my treatment - the one I'd been sending out and ultimately being rejected for - and decide it's not good enough, oh my god, I have to rewrite it, FREAK OUT! (Le freak, say chic)...

After I've finally calmed down, I decide to make little adjustments to my already perfectly fine treatment, accompanied with a letter explaining that although I was excited at her interest, I was absolutely apprehensive about sending her the treatment because of said earlier rejection, but that as a writer I understand the flexibility of stories, and I was absolutely open to working on the bones of the idea to make it a reality. I also explained the reasons I'd been rejected in the past, and then how I either disagreed with it, and /or how we can work around it.

I think the biggest reason the treatment comes across as intimidating is because it has no dialogue in it, and therefore can't completely portray the kinds of humour I want embedded in the show. The humour is, of course, going to come from the characters themselves, not the outline of their storyline... with all the darkness, you gotta have some light, right? Like they say, a spoonful of sugar...


SO. Off my treatment goes, along with some scenes I spent all night working on for the purpose of portraying some of that humour that is woefully absent from the treatment.

And while I have had positive letters back saying "Got that, feel free to send whatever you want, whenever, I'm in Europe at the moment and should get round to reading it very soon", I'm basically playing the waiting game now.

...I'm trying very hard not to get my hopes up, but the fact that ANYONE has paid ANY interest in my show at all, let alone after I'd practically given up on the idea in television form, is... very exciting, to say the least.


FINGERS CROSSED PEOPLE...

We may just get to live in Dark Valley yet...

.

SPAZZY:

If you're wondering why I have been so sporadic lately with my MAD SCORPION blogging, that is why. I am horribly addicted to writing scenes that will convince Great Southern I am the best thing since sliced bread and that they should make my show.

Hence, you can probably expect THE MAD SCORPION to be sporadic for a while.

...I knew you'd understand.

Can I just say, that despite being the only boy in Typing Class throughout my college years... what a fuckin genius move that was on my part! Probably the only thing I retained of the education I got from those years really... (I remember My Name, and Tongariro National Park as being the only answers I was able to give for my Geo exam... jesus...)
I don't regret it for a second. Typing probably doesn't even exist as a subject these days...
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GOOD LUCK, BAD LUCK.
Good:
In theme with the good luck I have been having lately, I was notified the other day that I won a competition on Facebook through Warner Music, and a 'HUGE, AO MADONNA POSTER' was on it's way to me.
JOY!!!
This, of course, was down to the e-mail I sent it.
They asked us to send in our details.
I sent in a rant about how much I loved Madonna and that the poster could only go to one person, that I loved it, that I loved THEM, that I HAD TO HAVE IT, GIVE IT TO ME, LOVE IT, WANT, NEED IT, etcetera, etcetera...
"With such an enthusiastic e-mail, how could we not give it you?", was their response...
Oh yeah baby, come to Papa....
Bad:
Running a few months late in my Sky bill (the reason being the bill payment place is a whole town away, and ugh.. Masterton? I don't think so...) I rejoiced when I realised I could actually set up an A.P. Technology, ay? SO, that's exactly what I did, making sure that I was paying off two months for every one. Sounds reasonable, right? WRONG. The very next week I got cut off.
So, I ring Sky credit management, and get a Total Bitch, who seems to think owing $128 is the end of the world, and that I will get my Sky back on in two months when I've paid the bill, and doesn't care that I've just set up an A.P. to take care of it. Ok, you wanna play like that lady???
ME: Will I be charged for the months that I'm disconnected while I pay this off?
BITCH LADY: No.
ME: Ok, well in a month, when I've paid that $128 off, I'll be closing my account and you've just lost a customer, goodbye!
Hang up.
Not two mintues later my phone rings again. It's Bitch Lady who, "after having a little think about it" (HA!), has decided to reconnect me, BUT SHE'LL BE KEEPING A CLOSE EYE ON ME to make sure my A.P. is going through...
Yeah, yeah, whatever lady, just put my tv back on bitch.
Wa la!
... I guess that was bad and good luck.
See? Being an arsehole pays off!
Good:
I run into my dad's cousin at the pub, and his girlfriend, and her mate... it's only a two second meet and greet before we have to run off and pick up someone.
MUCH later in the night, I have a random text from my cousin's girlfriends mate, and she's interested... This is a BOOTY TEXT. Oh yeah...
For someone who loves the water and has been living in the DESERT for almost two years (Yeah, you read it right bitches, shut the hell up), this is a welcome text. Unfortunately, she's now in Greytown and it's far too late for us to hook up anyway, so we have some drunken text flirting (I don't even know what this girl looks like, FYI), and then I crash out.
BAD:
The next day, I get... thirty-seven texts from this girl. What do you do, where do you live, what are you doing, bla bla. After the first ten, I'm like... Ok, I'm over texting, I'm slightly hungover, I just wanna chill.
But no. This is not good enough. Why aren't you answering, what are you doing, where have you gone, etc etc etc... Uh oh. This isn't looking good... In fact, this is looking stalkerish.
Even later - "I'm wasted in a spa with no clothes on", "I'm horny, what are you doing?"
Normally, this is the kind of thing I'd be jumping into without a second thought... but... I can already tell that this girl is clingy and... well, YOUNG might be a good word. Way TOO young.
Even later, when I'm not answering: "What you doing, why aren't you answering". To shut her up, I answer "I have a friend staying, just gonna chill with them at home". All true.
..."I THOUGHT YOU WERE SINGLE?" "I DON'T DO ATTACHED GUYS" "SO ARE YOU SINGLE OR WHAT?" "YOU BETTER NOT BE LYING TO ME" etc etc etc etc.... for about ten texts...
Ok. This girl is crazy. End communication.
My friend commented "Next she'll be accusing you of cheating on her!"
Yep. Later freak.

35.

I’m afraid I might have foot in mouth disease this week.

The other day I ran into an old friend who was recently married. We began talking about a mutual friend (who had just been over for the wedding of the friend I was now talking to), and I brought up another friends upcoming wedding, and how our mutual friend was coming back over from Oz for it, and then I said something like “Yeah, I’m going to that wedding!” meaning it in an excited, I-can’t-wait-to-go way, but realising as I said it that it probably came across as “I got invited to that wedding”. That wasn’t so good, I hope she didn’t think that, though it might explain the reason she was suddenly in a hurry…
The very next day I am chatting online (wow, nothing about ‘chatting online’ should look Retro… and yet…) with another old friend. The subject of parenting and Nannies came up. I can’t remember the exact details but I think there was a miscommunication in there somewhere. I answered a paragraph without properly reading it, and then after my answer about Ladies Of Leisure usually becoming alcoholics I realised my speel had nothing whatsoever to do with what she’d just said, and I was a couple sentences behind in the conversation and had missed out a vital part of my sentence anyway… ugh. Crap.
The point I was trying to make old friend (you know who you are) was that well-to-do Ladies Of Leisure who let nannies raise their kids usually become alcoholics, which was what she was scared she’d become etc.
Hope that clears things up.
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THE ALL WHITES:

So… when exactly did Soccer become a matter of national pride? I missed that. Although I’d guess only about two, three years ago, tops.
Not that I’m not glad. It’s nice that as a country we can embrace the sport the mainstream consciousness has been spitting on for as long rugby balls have been oval. Here’s to Hypocrisy!
No, seriously, go the All Whites.
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THE HILLS:

Heidi went home to see her mother for the first time since having most of her body reworked by plastic surgery. From what I could gather it had been a couple of months since her surgery, but she still couldn’t really, like, eat properly, or move her jaw much, and no, those staples at the edges of her forehead aren’t coming out, and no, her frozen-in-surprise browline isn’t coming down anytime soon…
Her mother was visibly shocked and disturbed by her daughters’ new appearance, and, believing her daughter was strong enough post-surgery and staunch enough about her decision, basically took the piss out of her.
Out for dinner, a huge hamburger pattie is on Heidi’s plate, and Heidi can’t really eat it.
“Are you ok there?” asks her Mother, clearly reveling in the fact that her daughter is suffering for her new beauty.
“I can’t really eat it,” says Heidi, clearly hating to have to admit that but obviously thinking she’s in safe hands admitting that to her mother.
“Huh… Would you like me to put that in a blender for you?” asks Mum, looking like she’s trying not to laugh.
The Brother and Sister and Stepfather, btw, are sitting around also, just watching the perverse freakshow with a horrified awe, unable to believe their eyes, unable to look away, jaws gaping, heads shaking…
Heidi politely excuses herself before bursting into dramatic tears and running off.
Love it.
That’s what you get for being a dumb bitch... Duh.
I have to admit though, as the weeks go by and Heidi and Spencer lose the plot more and more – eg. Sitting in bars with strangers discussing aliens and crystals – it’s kind of mortifying to watch… like a car crash you just can’t turn away from…
Audrina sucks.
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BLEEDING ALL OVER FACEBOOK:

I’ve noticed more and more people lately caring less and less about what they put in their facebook status update for all too see.
Shit about arguing with their partners, or calling so-and-so scum fuckwits, etc.
…I so don’t wanna know about your bullshit. I don’t really like to be bombarded with personal shit from somebody’s life that I (more often than not) haven’t seen in years and aren’t privy to enough of their personality to be front-row in their vicious outbursts and attacks on others.
Almost as bad – but way less shocking and way more tedious – are the INANE CHATTER status updates.
My baby kept me up ‘til four in the morning, oh my god, I can’t wait for my husband to get home so I can have a nice cup of tea…
Oh my god… Fuck Off. I Don’t Care. I haven’t seen you since school finished, we didn’t talk much then, and we don’t talk now, why WOULD I care???
BIG. YAWN.
I guess I could always ‘hide’ those people from my list, but I’d rather they weren’t on it at all.
Hence the three-monthly LIST CULL, where I go through my list and get rid of those who shouldn’t be there but are for some reason.
Like sometimes, if I can’t remember who a person is, I’ll accept them, then look at their photos, and realise it’s that person from school I haven’t talked to in, oh, EVER, so then I cull them.
Lately I have been RE-requested by people I’ve culled before with messages saying “Weird, I thought we were ALREADY friends! Silly Facebook, must be one of those bung things it does occasionally”…
Yeah, that MUST be it…
Those people will be on my list ‘til the next round, then… LATER!
Love it.
Watch those numbers DROP.
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