Wednesday, 3 May 2017

The Bachelor Games

The Bachelor's 'Simple Simon' Zac

Clearly I need a lobotomy because I’m still watching New Zealand’s most desperate and dateless girls all scrapping it out over one equally desperate Simple Simon.  I don’t know why I do it, but I suspect it’s because I’m just the right mix of romantic and bitchy, and let’s face it The Bachelor is great fodder for bitching and gossiping.

I do wish I could understand the starry eyed, tear inducing adoration for Zac that ‘the girls’ seem to have but I’m really struggling to find anything interesting about him at all.  He’s neither eye-candy nor really intelligent, nor funny.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think he’s a bad guy, just as boring as a yawning, intoxicated girl at a cocktail party.  I don’t know anything about Zac except that he was a lifeguard and has suffered from depression, and you would think that with all the dates he’s been on we’d know more than that by now.

There’s only five districts, oops I mean girls, left in the game and Zac is really getting his traumatised face down pat after every elimination.  I’m ‘really glad’ he’s there; it has been amazing to see him ‘really open up’ and ‘let his walls down’.  I like to know ‘how he’s feeling’ as frequently as possible so it’s ‘really important’ for him to ‘take the next step’ so he can ‘take things to the next level’.  He’s there for ‘the right reasons’ after all he’s ‘looking for love’ and he’s got ‘strong feelings’ growing.

Thank goodness for Lily!  She is legit the best thing about The Bachelor.  She knows what she’s doing, she’s just relaxing and enjoying the vibe whilst toying with Zac like a cat does with a bird before it’s mangled enough to eat.  Lily has everything she needs, booze, travel, accommodation and a bozo that’s spellbound enough to keep her there for the long run.

Dear young Claudia the ‘fanny blocker’ will provide the soft place to fall when Lily dumps Zac’s picked over carcass aside and packs her bags for more stimulating pastures.  To be honest I think they’re a great match, they’ve got chemistry, and nice cosy simple minds.  They’ll have happy, robust, dumb kids together.

If I hear another tearful sniffle of ‘I just need more time with Zac’ I’ll eliminate the whinging bitch myself.  I’ve watched these girls constantly sitting by the pool, drinking cocktails, dressing up for cocktail parties, travelling, and going on great ‘group dates’, why the fuck would they need to see more of Zac.  Be elusive bitch, there’s a reason you’re on The Bachelor – what you’ve been doing isn’t working because you’re coming across as clingy...  Also, don’t give us that ‘it’s hard’ bullshit, it looks pretty easy to me - apart from submerging yourself in an ice bath in order to get alone time with Zac – truly desperate love.

The storm of emotions leading up to the rose ceremony is sickening.  One would think that Zac was going to use a ‘hunger games’ style elimination and remove a girl with a bullet to the head with the amount of weeping and quivering going on.  It would be a whole different game if that’s how things went.  You’d have to be next level desperate or utterly ruthless to enter.  Zac would be getting more than just sneaky kisses at the cocktail party as the girls fought for survival no matter what. 

They’d still be all pathetic and tearful at the rose ceremony, clinging to each other and trying to pull Zac aside, but it would be totally understandable because once all the roses were handed out and one girl was left standing without one, the girls would know that she was not staying, but she was definitely not going home.  Dom would sinisterly walk in with a loaded hand gun, and say ‘**** you did not get a rose, you have been eliminated, take a minute and say your goodbyes’. The girls would be desperately relieved that they’ve survived another day but sad and horrified that a girl is about to be properly eliminated from their midst. They’d hug and cry just like usual and then Dom would come and put a bullet between her eyes and Zac would look all traumatised and sad – like usual.

 Have any of ‘the girls’ discussed how the prize package actually isn’t as good as the game?  Really just competing is the prize.  I’d much rather win the travel and stuff than Zac, what the hell would I do with him- have a long conversation about whether we’re ‘opening up enough’?  I think if I got to the final two I’d make sure I didn’t win, and if that didn’t work I’d have to use the ‘Smith Manouver’ and cut loose quicker than a man looking for love and then deciding he wanted something more casual.

Saturday, 1 April 2017

Bad Meme-ories

When I wake up in the morning I do not prowl around the house looking for coffee to remedy some sort of psychotic rage that is unquenchable by any other drink.  Nor do I start counting down the hours till I can start pouring unchecked amounts of wine down my throat, whilst simultaneously hypnotically ingesting as much chocolate as possible.  It might be surprising to know that my husband doesn’t have to hide my credit card and live in constant fear that I’m going to spend the mortgage money on a rampant shopping and shoe habit. 

When I idly scroll through facebook to keep up to date with what my friends and family are up to and to inform myself of the local and international happenings within my grasp, I often find memes that evoke a ‘ffs’ and an eye-roll response.  Frequently I am bombarded with ridiculous memes, many of them that make woman look like drunken, chocolate gorging, out of control idiots.  Worse still, it’s mostly woman perpetuating this stereotype.  Clearly these are not my women.  Women that willingly, even proudly, label themselves as shallow, materialistic, laughing lushes!

Sure I like coffee, but I also like to KEEP THINGS IN PERSPECTIVE!  If I can’t have coffee in the morning I can still be a nice, level-headed, functioning human being.  Removing coffee from the morning is not like taking a battery out of a battery operated unit, humans still function.  If you are an arsehole in the morning and coffee is the cure then for goodness sake, make sure that you NEVER run out of coffee, and since your affliction mostly affects those that you are being an arsehole to, you should be kind enough to wake up first and drink your morning dose before anyone else has to bear the brunt of your crippling ailment.  Also remember, it’s you who has the problem – and it’s most likely all in your needy head.   

I like wine.  I don’t think about it all day, or rush in the door after work with shaking hands searching for the nearest bottle of wine and a massive glass.  I like to enjoy wine with friends on social occasions, and I don’t need to invent social occasions just to have an excuse to drink.   Such is my lack of drinking skills that I even have a pretty pitiful tolerance and am on my way to laughy, happy feelings after just a couple of glasses.  I don’t think of wine as a solution as soon as something goes wrong in my life like all the stupid fucking memes suggest.  Like ‘oops, I’ve just crashed my car – wine’ or a similarly stupid solution to a multitude of ordinary problems.  If you think that a wine dispenser on your fridge would be a great idea, or replumbing your house so that beer comes out of your taps instead of water, what you’ve actually got is a drinking problem which no amount of affirming memes are going to make ok.  Pull your socks up ffs!  Just act like a normal person, like me, who occasionally gets shit-faced and smokes cigarettes.

I am a fat, greedy pig.  I like chocolate, sure. But I am not a fuckin lunatic! Let me make it pretty clear, I can walk past chocolate without flinching, I can eat a piece and not need to eat the whole block.  You will not be able to bribe me with chocolate. If you do know a woman who seems hypnotically attracted to the charms of chocolate and loses all willpower and dignity around a bar of the brown stuff then steer clear – that bitch is quite obviously crazy.  Apparently some women think that they can hear chocolate talking to them – clearly they’ve found something in common with nutty chocolate. 

I don’t have many pairs of shoes.  I like shoes, and yeah I like shopping now and again.  Here’s how many times I go shopping a year – maybe five to ten times.  I don’t sneak out of the house with a credit card tucked in my back pocket hoping my husband won’t find out and I certainly don’t take him shopping with me. WHY THE HELL WOULD YOUTAKE YOUR HUSBAND/BOYFRIEND SHOPPING?!!!  On pay day I don’t start planning what things I’m going to buy myself or spend all the mortgage money on extravagant and unnecessary items.  I spend basically none of my time dreaming about shopping.  I feel like I’m suffocating just thinking of all the things I would have if I did have this shallow and materialistic ‘hobby’.

What I’m trying to say here is GET SOME BLOODY PERSPECTIVE!!!! You don’t NEED Coffee, Wine, Chocolate and Shopping to exist on earth and be a nice person. All you really need is shelter, water and food and if you don’t have one of those things then you truly have permission to get a bit wild and desperate.  I bet you won’t be wasting time updating facebook about it ‘lookout everybody, got no water, going batshit crazy #musthavewater’.

Sunday, 11 December 2016

Why Christmas Makes Me See Red!

Getting fired up over Christmas!  I feel triggered

‘Tis the season to be jolly fucked off I reckon, especially in my family where we have two birthdays in December as well (followed by two in fucking Jolly January).  I totally wish that I got as excited as a cherubic, naive, little child as the month of December inched ever closer with its giant sleigh of financial and time burdens in tow, but alas – those days are over for this Grinch bitch.

Here’s how Christmas could be great for me.  Someone, maybe a fairy godmother type ethereal being, turns up with a Christmas tree, switches on some Christmas music, decorates the house with the sights, sounds and smells of Christmas, wraps presents noisily and excitedly in a nearby room, offers me chocolates and creates a menu for Christmas Day that they are going to execute with zero help from me. 

They arrange for all my loved ones to come together in one giant, peaceful, happiness fest, and organise suitable accommodation so that we can all be together in a happy haze as though we’ve all just downed Christmas ecstasy pills with our rose champagne. Any mess would just magically disappear in the twinkling of a Christmas angel’s eye, as though it had never even been there.  The only evidence of Christmas approaching would be a gently rising excitement flushing over me, building up to the equivalent of a Christmas orgasm.

Enough with the childish fantasies! This is what really happens to me at Christmas.  I can sense Christmas Satan coming with his sleigh of evil elves.  The stores get viciously threatening by hanging their intimidating decorations up, it’s a warning –  Satan and his Christmas Mafia are coming – you better pay up.  Time speeds up so that people look like they’re moving in fast forward and yet I’m in that dream like state where I’m trying to run but nothing’s happening.  All around the warnings are whispered insidiously into my mind ‘Christmas is coming, Christmas is coming...’

I can’t focus properly, the Christmas mafia are after me and I still have two birthdays to take care of, and a work do to organise, and all these end of year school events to attend.   A lot of people start acting like evil elves and furiously shop, do their gardening, clean their houses and take care of their whole lives work as though the world is actually going to end on Christmas Day!  Some of the spiteful bastards see me just getting on with normal life and are determined to make sure I’m aware that Satan is coming, and they cleverly smile with their teeth and crinkly eyes as they deliver the blood curdling question “have you done your Christmas shopping yet?”  I play it cool and sinister and let them know – I’m doing mine at the last minute- that stops them in their seasonal stride.

Even though I’m lurking in the shadows of Christmas and not operating in the frenzied, fake, tinsel-fuelled hell that many people are, I’m still subjected to annoying issues as a result of things like the sudden need for everyone to drive into town and take all the parks.  How the fuck am I supposed to feel Christmassy when I can’t even get a park at the supermarket!!!

Despite the horrors of Xmas I still eventually have to force myself to create the sort of atmosphere mentioned above for the sake of my family’s enjoyment, and lifelong memories of joy that will sustain them throughout their lives.  So at the last minute I will conjure up a delightful menu of food, heartfelt gifts, Christmas lilies that make the house smell like Christmas smelled when I was a kid, and I will kick Christmas’s ass! I will sweat out my dreams in the kitchen and enjoy the sounds of my family enjoying themselves, and I will clean up even though I feel like shooting a gun at a line up of Santas.

And the Christmas joy for me is knowing that my Mum did all that for me and my siblings, and I loved it, that boxing day is the best day of the Christmas holidays now for me, and that I have three kids who are teenagers and eventually they will do all this, and I will enjoy a Christmas smorgasbord of delight at their houses in the near future and then I will be singing Christmas carols at the top of my awful voice.

Merry Fucking Christmas Everyone!

Sunday, 2 October 2016

WOW Polly, Did you really say that!?

Stuff that's all terribly boring to Polly...
I attended WOW (World of Wearable Arts Award Show) in the weekend and it was mind-blowingly good.  My friends Mum was exceedingly generous in buying us some tickets and enabling my long held desire to attend.  We made a day-long road trip together from Palmy to Wellington with just enough time to check out David Jones, and then enjoy a mouth stimulating cocktail near the waterfront at Foxglove before the show.

The day was already a winner before I’d even stepped into the TSB Arena for WOW. It was in this wandering around Wellington stage that my friend brought up Radio DJ Polly Gillespie’s ranty- tanty article about WOW.  We both screwed up our faces and said “F*ck her”.  My friend had not even read the article because she thinks Polly is just pathetic and won’t give her the time of day anyway, but I just had to check it out.  Maybe she heard wrong, maybe, Polly who asks for so much tolerance and understanding for herself, would never criticise something she had never even seen, maybe it was a stitch up...

WOW!  She did it!! Unbelievably Polly took the time to weave a tale all about why she found WOW so annoying.  She actually called her uninformed perspective “anti-antsy-pantsy-arty-farty-fartiness”!  She went on to describe this world event of extremely high calibre “all a bit of a craft project on steroids." She thinks WOW is a giant inconvenience to her and her friends, who get exasperated by all the women that come and get in their way in Wellington.  

That’s fine to talk shit with your friends Polly, hell everybody does that right? But to publicly talk shit and belittle people that find it outrageous to buy a $500 t-shirt from your friends shop is just the height of snobbery. Personally I think most of the Radio DJ’s on popular radio are quite moronic (Vaughan Smith and Karen Hay are notable exceptions, as are probably most people on National Radio) and I’m shocked that people can listen without wanting to grate their ears off, but I wouldn’t usually pick a public forum to air that .  And besides, I’ve got an audience of say a few hundred people at most, not the tens of thousands that you probably have. 

When you ask “What would Coco Chanel say for God's sake?” well I imagine she wouldn’t waste her time talking to someone so ill-informed about fashion as you, she’d probably go to WOW to recruit talent and rejuvenate her soul. I also would like to point out that you are not living in “POLLYWOOD”, but actually Wellington, where people like the arts a lot!  It does seem that you think that WOW is “silly” because it’s not all about you.  Well thank goodness because POLLYWOOD would not be a place I’d like to hang out.  Your stunningly cruel jibes about how people outside of Wellington dress say nothing about them and everything about you.  You’re a mean girl Polly and extremely selfish.  Why couldn’t you just say that shit to your friends and leave it at that?

So let me fill you in on the people that you have been talking shit about.  Well, for a start Dame Suzie Moncrieff whose heartfelt write up at the beginning of the programme should have you weeping tears of sorrow for your ‘silly’ words.  This amazing woman spent her life making WOW what it is and still feels passionate about she’s done.  I want to cry with gratitude for the inspiration that she is, if only you would cotton on Polly. The Directors from Inside Out productions Mike Mizrahi and Marie Adams along with artist Reuben Paterson who created this stunning show from threads of creativity inside their heads probably and hopefully won’t be wounded by your mindless comment. Probably Weta , who made the giant lifelike tiger that moved and spoke with Jermaine Clements voice, they might feel a bit put out about it.  Maybe Don Mcglashan who worked on the cleverly chosen music that saturated our souls, or the lighting guy that had us enthralled with at times terrifying and at times mesmerising light work might feel a bit f*cked off Polly.  Maybe the dancers that kept the show pumping on a set that moved, a magical constantly changing set, might feel miffed.  How about the designers that aren’t actually trying to make any type of clothing that you might want to wear? That’s really silly Polly- WOW is about art, it’s about showing just how amazing your skills are, what you can achieve when your creativity and your skills combine.   I’m not sure how long their designs take but I could well imagine it would be months if not years of work.  An award for your entry could be a career defining moment in a young designer’s life, not to mention for the models, dancers and all the cast and crew that create such an amazing spectacle.

Because I’ve seen how upset you get when people say bad things to you, I am utterly gobsmacked at your ruthless casting aside of the skills of such a huge bunch of talented people, basically anyone who participates in the arts, and their appreciation society.  At the very least you could have witnessed it first hand before you commented.

 I’d like you to suck it up and go see a show Polly, buy a programme so you can read about the amazing people behind the scenes, then, at least, you can comment with some knowledge which would be a great turnaround from your ignorant uniformed rant.  

I hope next year someone enters a design called Polly’s Big Mouth, and that it takes up the whole stage and maggots fall out of it, or maybe you could just open the show with a giant apology...

P.S. I drove my car all around Wellington and I hope I cut you off... 
probably not supposed to use this image.

Monday, 11 July 2016

Stupid Market- Getting the Grosseries

Last week I was doing the dreaded grocery shopping on an average
That's right!
Saturday morning.  Whilst I used to enjoy the experience of wandering along sizing up potential candidates of the food kind to gain entry to my trolley, these days I just want to make a quick in and out job of it.  So, I was charging through with list in hand, weaving in and out of all the other shopping zombies hoping that I wouldn’t get in anyone’s way and that they wouldn’t get in mine.

Still, I am a fascinated observer of people and their behaviour and there’re a few things that stand out to me while I’m rampaging like a mad woman through the food palace:

Some people get really aggressive.
It’s like they believe they’re the only person that finds food shopping to be annoying and everybody else is having a gay old time and trying to make them angrier.  I really want to say to these shunters and grunters ‘hey, you know we’re not having a party here either, we’re just managing our attitudes way better than you are arsehole’.

Mums and Dads with their kids look at me with contempt:
especially if I have a small trolley.  Their gaze and body language is like a loaded gun with a finger on the trigger.  I can’t blame them, they’re in the supermarket with children – there really isn’t anything much less enjoyable, or more stressful.  Anyway, as I freely saunter past looking relaxed, with my tiny trolley, I feel them shoot daggers into my back as if to scream ‘you don’t know what it’s like to have kids you bitch, wait till you end up like this’.  Jokes on them, I’ve been there done that, and that’s why I’m so free and happy now!

One thing I do find hard to understand is why anyone would do the groceries with their partner?! I mean it’s not like it’s a date, or an enjoyable outing of any kind.  Surely it would be about as enjoyable as cleaning the toilet together-yuck.  It seems like the couple’s grocery shopping thing might be all about insecurity and control.  The supermarket being such a great place to pick people up, I’m not so sure.

 I don’t think it’s all in my head though when I come round the corner with my trolley and straight into the path of an oncoming couple to find the woman glaring at me and the man nervously looking at his feet.  FFS! If you’ve got to keep your Man on such a tight lead while you bark and snarl off to the side you’ve got some serious problems.  If my husband was coming to the supermarket and wanted to run off with some chick doing her groceries then she’d be the one getting a shitty deal (I don’t mean he’s a dick head or a bad lover- he’s not) because she would have hooked herself an unfaithful man and I’d be free of one.

But last week, last week, oh my, this one took the cake!  So there I was marching around the supermarket and I’m in about the second aisle when I come across a forty to fifty year old couple with their trolley.  I hear him ask her ‘what are you after – Kremelta- or something?’ and she confirms that yes that’s what she’s after but that it’s probably not down this aisle.

 You see at the moment everybody is confused as fuck at the supermarket because they’ve done that super annoying strategy of changing everything around in order to make their customers disoriented, and keep people wandering around in there for longer.  In a situation like that a lot of people help each other out by asking and directing each other to the products they’re after.  So I made a mental note that that couple were looking for Kremelta so if I were to see it, I’d let them know.

I couldn’t remember what the woman looked like because the guy had been the one right in front of me.  He had a red cap on, jeans and a t-shirt and sports jacket.  He had the big, rounded, soft belly of a beer swilling rugby loving kiwi guy.  He also had a quite dated looking big bushy salt and pepper moustache.  
As I rounded the corner to the next aisle there he was right in front of me, and he had just found the kremelta.  I did what I thought was normal and smiled at him.
Just so you know.

Well, he looked at me with contempt and anger for my freely given smile, turned on his heel, made a beeline for his partner and planted a big sloppy kiss on her face- right in front of me.  As if that’s not kind of weird and creepy enough he then turned and looked straight at me while he was pinching her on the butt!  Well, I guess he showed me that I’ve got no chance with him!!!! What a shame, I was so looking forward to kissing a bloody Neanderthal at the supermarket. 

It strikes me that one could see all of this stupid market behaviour by watching a bunch of monkeys in the wild.  This is domestic animal jungle activity, I should have started scratching myself and pretended to eat fleas I'd just harvested off my body. Or perhaps a guttural monkey scream would have been enough, I'm bloody good at those!

Alternatively I could have really fucked that guy over by bursting in to tears and saying 'but you promised that you wouldn't kiss her anymore, you said that you were just waiting for the right time, I can't believe I made love to you in the toilets here just last week'! Yeah, I'd love to see the look on that dick heads face if I had unleashed that shit on him.

Maybe I’ll just get a supermarket t-shirt made that reads:
·         Hate shopping
·         Married
·         Got kids
·         Just want to get my groceries done
·         Not interested in your boyfriend
·         Smiles are free – no strings attached.

Then everybody can just calm the fuck down and do their bloody shopping!

Tuesday, 14 June 2016

Don't be a Stick in the Mud

I like to observe people.  I’m not an obsessive stalker or anything, I mean I just like to mull over the similarities and differences in the way that people conduct themselves and to wonder about why that is so.  I couldn’t do all that without being judgmental in some way, so I guess I also judge people.  Judging people can hurt them so you’ve got to be quite particular about what you say and to whom when you are moving to the next level of discussing your judgmental thoughts.

I’m quite good with metaphors and similies, and that seems like a good way to express the things you might want to say in an abstract way without upsetting any particular party, although to be fair, some people just like to get upset about the smallest things and they just can’t be helped- let them get upset.

So I’ve been thinking about journeys through life and the paths we
choose and what the outcomes are, and I think the best way to illustrate this is with twigs and sticks.  

For the boring/annoying/question asking types who lack imagination – choose the length and thickness of the stick as you see fit.  The stick can be made of anything, personally I’m thinking of a knotted and gnarled groovy looking fallen twig, but for the more diligent you may like to choose a piece of wood that has been fashioned into an even straight line and is more uniform looking.

Anyway, sigh, those boring types always distract from my creative meanderings with their annoyingly practical questions.

Anyway, my twig, as described above, enjoys the thrill of the river ride.  My twig jumps in with no prior planning, no expectations and just enjoys the ride.  If the water is still my twig enjoys floating and thinking about stuff, talking to other chilled out relaxed twigs, and just rejoicing in being a twig in the river. 

The boring sticks, they’re busy making plans to enter the river at the right point, they’re discussing and debating where the flow might take them, all the dangers involved if they enter at the wrong time and how they could minimise any damage that might occur.  They’re getting all bent out of shape over which way is the right way to float and how to maximise their success at floating down the river.  For a start, they’re not going to help any irresponsible twigs whose journey has hit a rough patch; it’s their fault if they didn’t plan ahead.

It’s true that my twig could get into a spot of bother because it’s just floating down the river sometimes seeing amazing things, and having amazing experiences and other times getting thrown around in the rapids and getting smashed into stuff.  But these difficulties mean that my twig is richer in life experiences, even though it may be battle scarred.  Also my twig has to come up with solutions to difficulties as they arise and that means it’s not wasting time planning for problems that may never arise but creatively responding to the ones that do.

By contrast, the straight and orderly sticks are floating through a very narrow, well planned route that will get them to their destination in the most efficient and successful way.  Any problems they run into won’t be ‘their fault’ it will be despite their best laid plans and just a part of the uncontrollable erratic features of the journey down the river.  If they can the orderly sticks will keep these issues to themselves in order to avoid the shame it might bring upon their strategic planning skills.  One might not even know they had troubles such are their skills at ‘faking it till they make it’.

My twig likes to collect colourful things and invite other twigs to
join them on their journey.  Travelling through the muddy waters and little pools at the edge of the river affords great leaf and other colourful item discoveries as well as party opportunities with like minded twigs.  Twigs are happy to party anytime but sticks have planned gatherings at responsible times.  Twig parties are out of control colourful events and stick parties are subdued.  Sticks make sure they are the straightest and cleanest they can be at parties, it’s important to mix with the right sticks to get ahead in life.

As twigs travel down the river they join up in little random rafts with bits of debris as their artwork, they support and help each other through the whole journey.  Sticks travel in small orderly groups, often in groups of two or four.  If someone in the group breaks the stick rules they set them adrift, and sometimes that stick joins the twigs and lives happily ever after. 

Tuesday, 10 May 2016

Nazty Naz Wins Competition to be NZ's Most Hated Woman

Nazty Naz

Just when Naz was starting to win some of New Zealand over with her cutsie smile, crinkly nose and girly laughter, out she comes with all guns blazing!  I hope you’ve got your passport ready Naz, because you’ve just won the competition, and are now New Zealand’s most hated woman.  On the plus side I guess Judith Collins is now heaving a great sigh of relief and preparing to hand over the crown.

In what was a pretty cringe worthy show, our Monday and Tuesday night guilty pleasure, this episode absolutely took the cake!  Was it Mike Puru squirming uncomfortably in his chair as he tried to get the girls to ‘open up’, Jordan’s maugerly boring chat, or the clearly irate girls that felt that they’d been held in ‘captivity’ in a Mansion!  No, it was the shocking entrance of Naz theNazty Queen as she snaked down out of her tree in the garden of Eden and showed her true colours- and what awful colours they were.

Naz entered unapologetically, and launched into an expletive filled diatribe that virtually nobody had immunity from, except precious Jordan of course.  The audience gets both barrels when she responds to a clearly quite perceptive audience member that yells out a very succinct description of Naz.  “come up here and say that, I f****n dare you” or something pretty rank and disrespectful for live TV  that she yells back.  Again Naz is clearly just being ‘confident’ and forgetting to be ‘respectful’ to others.  Or maybe it’s us, we’re just not confident and strong like her...

Next in the line of fire is Kate.  After asking Naz why she had made it onto Naz’s ‘hit list’ when she hadn’t even talked to her, Naz replies ‘I talked to you in the house, don’t talk shit’ I don’t want to exactly quote Naz because 1) I know how much it annoys her when people get it wrong, and 2) I’m already wasting heaps of time just writing about the psycho already. 

Well, Kate shone tonight.  Good on you Kate.  You weren’t scared to let Naz know she wasn’t worth wasting your time on.  Kate and Gabs were confident, respectful and truthful.  One can only hope that Kate gets some ‘alone time’ with Naz after the show- now that’s some reality TV I’d like to see.  I suspect that Naz won't be partying with 'the girls' after the show- she'll need a special escort to get her safely passed a simmering lynch mob of designer dresses and perfume.

Because I started watching The Bachelor a few episodes in, I never had the displeasure of viewing that half witted fellow bitch of Nazty Naz – Claw-ditz or something like that.  One could not meet a shallower, more idiotic, fame hungry, desperate woman. I’m guessing you’ll be able to pick up her designer clothes at bargain prices tomorrow. Still at least she was there so that Naz had someone to sit beside and rudely interrupt, giggle and point with. 
Mauger disappointment

To be sure Jordan was a mauger disappointment.  What do we really know about him.  Not much, and to be fair it seems like that is all there is to know.  If you close your eyes and listen to him speaking he sounds ‘exactly’ like John Key.  If you ask him a straight forward question he sounds ‘exactly’ like John Key.  He just beats around the bush using benign, meaningless lingo.

Watching Naz greet Jordan as though he was still her ‘babe’ was just plain horrible.  And rather than act like a gentleman and kindly deflect her clingy, possessive behaviour, Jordan acted in a maugerly spineless way.  He let Naz get all close and personal without thinking about Fleur’s feelings at all.  Good old Kate was onto it though, she made some noise about it and rightly so.  High five Kate - you beauty!  If only Jordan had rescued the situation by saying something like ‘I knew all along it was Fleur’ but no, the clumsy idiot thought we’d all feel sorry for his ‘difficult choice’ between Naz and Fleur!!!!   Nice one mate, hard to understand why you were single eh?!

Question time just got worse and worse.  A clearly irate group of 'girls' ask some confronting questions and make some underhanded jabs about the whole Bachelor show.  Mike looks like he knows things are out of control and starts to glow with a thin sheen of nervous sweat.  At this point the only thing that could save the show is if Jeff from Survivor came and took over.  Naz still thinks her and Jordan are ‘a thing’ and tries to answer questions that the girls have directed to Jordan.  Taking a swipe at Ceri when she asks Jordan why he concealed his acting career from the girls, Naz tries to deflect this question by saying that Ceri only did The Bachelor so that she could get onto Dancing with the Stars.  Well Naz might as well have just punched a puppy on TV! Everybody hates her, her fate is signed, sealed and delivered.  Well, maybe Jordan still likes her- because he’s very, very stupid.

Maugerly concerned about her new boyfriend
Fleur’s entrance to the show is a relief.  All the ‘girls’ like her, as do the majority of New Zealanders.  Even Jordan likes her quite a bit.  She is demur, genuine and lovely which is nice.  However, it’s all a bit sad because her future relationship with Jordan looks like it’s going to be maugerly disappointing. Everyone wants Fleur to be happy, it just seems highly unlikely that Jordan is going to be the key to that happiness.  

The only future for Naz is as the future Bachelorette, otherwise she might as well call Natalia Kills and Willie Moon for advice on how to cope when New Zealand hates you.

UPDATE**** Having learnt nothing from her disgraceful behaviour screened on TV last night, Naz rolls out even more of her Nazty behaviour on The Edge radio station this morning. You can see her happily giggle away while she reveals that she slept with Jordan multiple here to watch her nazty, manipulative act.

Following this Jordan and Fleur arrive for a 'chat' with Jay Jay, Dom and Randall and boy is it disappointing.  Again Jordan explains just how tough it was to choose.  Really!!! Has he learned nothing?  Has nobody leaned in and said 'look mate, even if that's true, The Bachelors over now and you're best not to say that'!  Jay Jay even asks Fleur how she feels when he says that and Fleur agrees it's hard- but still Jordan hasn't cottoned on.  I'm beginning to think he should have chosen Naz. Watching Naz play with Jordan like a cat torturing a mouse would be a great follow up show for The Bachelor. And seeing Fleur live happily ever after with someone who thinks she is their true one and only would be the kind of happy ever after most of us would like to see for her.