I'm surprised at just how much The Secret Life of Us totally lifted most of its characters straight from the show
I believe both City Life and The Secret Life of Us took inspiration from This Life, a BBC series about 20-somethings in the city, where the drama in their lives came from ordinary things, not the high concepts that had previously fuelled drama series.
Anyway, after reading this thread, I tuned in and was pleasantly surprised. For a 10-year-old series, it's not looking anywhere near awful as 10-year-old cultural things usually seem.
City Life was really fun to watch, including Justine From Shortland Street lezzing it up with her gym instructor, who seduced her by revealing she'd been molested by her step-father.
Throughout, I noticed that everyone's hair looked kind of messy. It couldn't quite put my finger on it. It wasn't just that it was 10-year-old hairstyles. There was something different about their hair to the TV hair of today. Then I realised - ceramic hair straighteners hadn't been invented then. Blow drying was as good as it got, resulting in flyaway ends. I'm glad it's the future now.
And the closing credits, with the cityscape of Auckland at night, was so pretty. But the special bonus was that the Sky Tower was but a concrete stump back then, giving the skyline a somewhat different feeling.
I remember one of the panellists at the Hopetoun Alpha P.A. Live do: "you call it TVNZ Interactive, but where's the interactivity!?"
Credit goes to Regan Cunliffe from Idolblog (and now Throng) for that one. He knows a thing or two about television and interactivity.
Here's a Tone Loc story for you.
Simon, thank you so much for that story. I'm sure you have many more like it, but I did delight in this one.
I'd rather have Andrew Cheese on Toast DJing than Tone Loc MCing any day.
You know it's the school holidays when teenage boys start doing bloody stupid stuff. I was walking home from the bus stop when a car o' teen boys drove past and yelled "fat bitch!" at me and then, to my amazement, turned down the cul-de-sac where I live.
So of course I merrily strolled up to their parked car (they were dropping off someone) and told them they were dickheads. They denied it (well, I don't see any other car o' teens around here...), but all looked scared of ze crazy lady.
Re growing dope indoors.
About six years ago I was looking for a flat with some friends, and we were being shown around a house in Sandringham by its landlord.
He pointed out some mildew and mould in one of the bedrooms caused by one of the departing tenants having grown dope there.
But then, just to prove that he was an OK landlord, he noted that he wasn't evicting them because they'd been growing dope. The tenants had actually ended the lease because as the guy had been arrested for the dope-growing, his partner had decided to take their child and leave him.
This mouldy shack did not become my home.
A question to consider: If a discussion ends up being two people making long posts to each other, should it, as a courtesy, go to private email instead of being in the general discussion.
On the other hand, there may be people who want to read such discussions.
It's just that earlier I wanted to write something light about the Listener, but it feels awkward to butt into the midst of a big, long, heavy discussion about Iraq.
Maybe there needs to be threading.
long forgotten rapper Redhead Kingpin
How can anyone forget Redhead Kingpin and his F.B.I. crew and their 1989 hits "Do the Right Thing" and "Pump it Hottie"?
Oh, I keep forgetting. Not everyone was a 14-year-old girl in 1989.
what. are. these. people. like?
Six years ago I was in New Caledonia on holiday, having dinner at the hotel restaurant. At a nearby table was a middle-aged New Zealand couple who had acquired a middle-aged French lady, and were giving her a primer on New Zealand.
According to them, the Moriori were the original inhabitants of New Zealand, but the Maoris killed them and ate them. And the Maoris call white New Zealanders Pakehas, which means white pig.
It took a lot of self-control to avoid going over and screaming at them.
I have no doubt that people like that, in all age groups, still exist, only now they're online.
Time-and-a-half and a day in lieu
Somewhere, in a far corner of my mind, is the memory of one of those classic Kiwi summer holiday things. The one with the beach and the Pohutukawas in bloom and the simple bach and the barbecue and the beach cricket.
But it's a distant, fading memory. It's not 1982 any more. It's 2007 and I've got to work the stats, baby.
Working the stats is office gangsta speak for working on statutory holidays. So while everyone else is lying on the beach and drinking beer and eating sossies, I'm inside a cool air-conditioned office doing that essential work that refuses to go on holiday.
Before I started in my current job, I held public holidays as sacred. I wouldn't have dreamed of working on one. But having worked on various public holidays now for a few years, I'm surprised at how ordinary it is.
This year I worked New Year's Day and the day after. The biggest annoyance is the buses running on a reduced timetable and that some local food places charge a public holiday surcharge (but not the cafe across the road from work - sweet!).
I just showed up to a near empty workspace, worked for a bit, shared a pizza with a co-worker, did some more work in the pleasantly quiet office, then went home. It wasn't much of a hassle at all.
But the best thing is that I get a day in lieu, so I can still party like it's 1982, just at a later date.
I remember the breast club! It was ace. I wanted to contribute, but I couldn't get some alone time with the scanner at my parents' place.