Sunday, April 27, 2008

Kiss me honey

I have honey dripping off my face.

Yes, I'm a weirdo. But I'm a weirdo with damn good skin.

And I'll share my beauty secret with you, my loyal, er, 5 readers.

The first time dad went to shift the beehives, we had to pick him up from the emergency room at the hospital. He had been stung through his clothes, when the bees sneakily stealthed in under his "bee suit". Some bee suit. He took the next two days off work, and couldn't walk. This was a pain in the ass for me. Dad is NEVER sick, ever. And so I got to see a side of him, that, lets say, isn't his best. The big baby side.

He swore that was it. No more bees. But as the pain subsided, so did his resolution, and two weeks later, he was back shifting the bees and, yes, getting stung again. But from his sacrifice came dark, golden manuka honey, every pot or bowl in the house was filled with it, and every surface in the house was slightly sticky.

Three days ago, I was pointing out a particularly stubborn pimple, when dad suggested honey. It's a natural antiseptic, anti-inflammatory and it re-hydrates the skin. blah-de-blah. So, I lathered on a pure honey face mask, and left it on for forty-five minutes. Now, I'm addicted.

I've been doing it twice a day, because seriously, after every mask, my skin looks younger. Now I'm in my late twenties, my natural youthfulness is gone, with all those not-so-sought after attributes of aging starting to affect me. ME! Deep down, I'd always refused to believe age would get me. But no more blissful naivety. I had to admit it, my skin was starting to look tired and dull, and smile lines (otherwise known as WRINKLES!!) were creeping in. Pretty depressing actually.

After just three days, all the aging thingys are gone. My skin is glowy, smooth and soft, dewy if you will. It's fucking perfect!!
And after every honey mask, it gets even perfecter. I know that's not possible, but that's honey. It Is A Miracle.

Try it yourself, and see what you think. I know that outside NZ manuka honey is v expensive (still, it's cheaper than most skin creams), but it is the best kind to use. Otherwise, any raw honey will do. What an infomercial. No I'm not selling it.

Bee fact:

Bees communicate via special dances, often within the hive, where it's dark. Other bees will crowd around and stretch out their antennae to receive the vibrations in order to comprehend the message. This is how they choose which pollen to plunder, its exact location and quality, among other details. Cute eh.

Last beauty post ever.

Saturday, April 19, 2008


This'll make you smile. Watch it to the very end, it just gets better. And no, it's not some fake-o, I know someone whose actually been there, and seen it all. It's a mysterious world we live in. Enjoy!


I just blew my nose on a leaf. I'm sitting in the garden, trying to keep warm. Houses in New Zealand are NOT built for winter. We have this silly "tough" mentality, that winter here is nothing, and so who the hell needs central heating. This is the land of drafty houses and one-bar electric heaters. Right now it's actually warmer outside, sitting in the sunshine, than inside, where it's still shady.

In a potted plant beside me, sits a grubby little Smurf. I used to collect them as a kid. This is Doctor Smurf, with a stethoscope in one hand, and a giant syringe in the other. It's unreal, but the sight of a SMURF syringe is enough to give my heart a whoosh of cravings. I know the way this all works now, the brain trickery, flooding me with lovely images and golden moments that all say use. Use. USE.

To escape from a drug-lust daydream, according to my therapist, I have to distract myself. Give the rational brain some time to catch up. It's a bit slow, my rational brain.

Right on cue, as if entering from stage left, my kitten trots blindly past, with a tissue-box (bigger than his whole body) stuck on his little head.

They say recovery's a daily battle, and it's true. But I'm glad to say, today, In Smurf vs. Kitten, Kitten won.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

New new

I was still at the print-shop half an hour before my flight boarded. Cutting my fringe as I drove to the airport. Polishing my nails on my tray-table, and gluing in bits to my portfolio.

Two hours and a lot of traffic later, I was sitting in a boardroom high in an office building on the waterfront downtown. The walls were all glass, I could see the seagulls, tiny in the distance, dive-bombing waves.

"So what do you want to be doing in ten years?" He asked.
I laughed. "That really is a job-interview question isn't it?"
He stuttered a bit, but I cut him off. I actually get excited by the future now. By dreams.

At some bleary time around 8am the next morning, my phone rang. I stumbled for it, missed it. Called back. And then, suddenly I was very awake.

My extra well-paid, fun, creative new job starts in two weeks!

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Stamp your foot and other things

For some reason blogger is all fucky and going s o s l o w l y
But here i am, suffering, all because of my love of inky things, in particular, inky-stampy things.
So look! These rubber stamps are just beautiful. The way all stamps should be.

Rubber was discovered in the Amazon River Basin by a French explorer in 1736. Three decades later the idea of using small cubes of it to erase pencil marks was hatched, but as rubber was still a novelty- expensive and hard to come by, most people kept using bread crumbs for that task, just as they always had.

The problem at that time, was that rubber would quickly turn goop if the temperature rose. Luckily, an eccentric inventor named Charles Goodyear became obsessed with the dilemma. He quit his hardware business and stormed his wife's kitchen, turning it into a makeshift lab for his wild rubber experiments. Poor Charles lost precious moments however, when his unpaid debts and recurring bankruptcy led to sporadic imprisonment. At one point, Charles sold his children's school books to pay for his next experiment. Fortunately, a clumsy moment in the kitchen led to a major revelation, when he accidentally spilled some rubber mixed with sulphur on his wife's hot stove. Voila! It maintained it properties, and the next day, was still flexible.
Charles had done it.

It was 1860 and the Civil War saw rubber stamps come into everyday use, an efficient way to authorize all those piles of important papers quickly. Slowly stamps became incorporated into the art world, first by the Russian futurists and then by the German Dadaists. In the 60s-70s stamps had their pop-culture heyday, becoming the old-fashioned equivalent to Game Boy.

Do you have a favourite? Do you care at all?