The Justy

This post is dedicated to the memory of The Justy. We had many good times together. I miss you.

When I got home from Belgium I saw an ugly, beat up, old, little red car sitting in the driveway.

I assumed it was my sister's boyfriend's car. Much to my dismay, my mother informed me that it was mine.

I am clearly much too classy to be driving a heap of junk like that! MY LIFE IS SO DIFFICULT!! #whitepeopleproblems

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
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The first time I drove it, I was just going for a test drive, with my sister in the passenger seat.

We'd only just pulled out onto the street when she shrieked in my ear.

In Belgium they drive on the other (wrong) side of the road. After having been there for a year, I wasn't used to driving on the left any more. Luckily things went back to normal within a day.
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Sometimes when there were no cars around, I'd see how fast I could go on the main road.

I was so proud when my little beast made it all the way to 125 kph.

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One time I decided to pimp my ride. I went to the supermarket with my friend Diane, and got some packing tape, some cardboard boxes and a craft knife.

I added a body kit.

A scoop

And a spoiler

We then drove around like the badass gangsters we are, reving the engine at intersections, cruising past the pits, generally being awesome.

We pulled up to a roundabout.

I'd just revved my engine at an undercover police car. I never realised that you could get pulled over for being so awesome. Clearly the police were just jealous of my sweet car.... Actually, I just didn't have my headlights on.
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One night I was driving Diane and I home from town, where we pulled up to the traffic lights.

We waited for what seemed like forever.

I saw the lights turn green, and pulled out. Once I was halfway across the intersection I realised that the green lights were actually the lights for going the other direction.

Instead of being a normal person and carrying on, I slammed it into reverse and went back to the traffic lights.

There were some police across the road from me, but they were too busy laughing at me to pull me over.
Keep in mind that this is in Taupo, so there is only set of traffic lights, and I still managed to mess it up.
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I had the Justy in Wellington once. My friends Beth and Francesca came with for a drive with me. We ended up driving up and down Courtenay Place (the street with all the bars on it) blasting Britney Spears as loud as the stereo could go.

At one set of traffic lights, I revved my engine at the car next to me.

They revved back.

I had just revved my engine at a Porsche. OH IT WAS ON!!

And off we went!! Needless to say, the Porsche won. But my little beast put up a good fight!
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My parents sold the justy two years ago. Every now and then I see it around town and remember all the good times we had.

These are only a few of the stories, I will be posting more as I remember them.

Random conversation

This is a conversation that Amber and I had a while ago. I think it's a good representation of what happens about 80% of the time we talk.

Amber: I don't see how being shot in the leg can be anymore painful than a papercut.

Me: LMFAO, why?

Amber: Its a foreign object going through your flesh. Plus paper cuts hurt and it's a constant danger in my job. Pretty sure I should be paid extra for working in these difficult circumstances.

Me: Pfft, ever had a movie cut? Doubt it. If you should get paid extra I should get paid double that for the risk of movie cuts!

Amber: I have never had a movie cut.. But have you sliced your finger with a bitcher knife? I will win this

Me: What's a bitcher knife?

Amber: ... It's a butcher knife, crossed with a bitch. So when it cuts you, it tells you how ugly you are. Or it may have been a typo.

Me: I don't really know what a butcher knife is (obviously a knife for cutting meat, but I don't know how big/sharp etc.) but I did slice my finger with my flatmate's super fancy bread knife that cuts through EVERYTHING.

Amber: They're big and sharp. And bread knife? Are you even trying to win?

Me: Looks like this. And it's insanely sharp.

Amber: We have one of them.. We use it to cut cheese when we run out of clean knives.
Once I had my arm ripped off by a shark.. And sewn back on.

Me: Once a shark ripped off my arms and legs. I didn't get them sewn back on cos I'm tough.

Amber: Once I was attacked by a drop bear. I lost both of my eyes and my mouth is ripped open like the joker.

Me: Oh is that why? I thought you were just naturally ugly.

Amber: :(

Me: Did I win? :D

Amber: Only because you resorted to calling me ugly

Me: I still won

The drunkest I have ever been

I've already told you about how I was a trainwreck. This is another one of those stories.

Once upon a Saturday I woke up at 10am to Brit (my flatmate) and Cheyenne (our friend) knocking on my bedroom door.

Being the trainwreck that I was, that sounded like an awesome thing to do on a Saturday morning. I had work at 8pm that night, but I thought that there'd be enough time to sober up by then.
We went down to the shop and bought a bottle of wine. We then crammed all three of us into a cubicle in the public toilets on Lambton Quay (one of the classy streets in central Wellington) and started drinking.

Slightly tipsy, we carried on towards the skate park, rating people out of one to ten loudly as they walked past. We thought we were so super sneaky and that nobody would know what the numbers meant. But after a few dirty looks I think they'd figured it out.

We finally arrived at the skate park. We'd been expecting to see this:

But we saw this:

Disappointed, we decided to go and get some more alcohol. I bought a small bottle of jager, which was my favourite drink at the time.

It was nearly midday, so we decided to go and get some lunch from the food court down the road from the bottle shop. Brit and Cheyenne got some food, while I declared that "EATING IS CHEATING" and started drinking my jager. Through a straw. Out of a paper bag. So that nobody would know. I'm so sneaky.

Pictured above: Sneakiness.

When they were finished their lunch, we tried to decide where to go to next. They asked me how much Jager I had left, so I pulled the bottle out of the bag.
I was expecting this:

I saw this:

Pictured above: Horror

I knew that this was going to be bad. I couldn't believe that I'd drank that much jager in about 15 minutes. How did that happen? But strangely, I felt fine.... until I stood up.

I don't really remember much from this point on... The following is what I have pieced together from witness testimony.

We walked around town for a bit. Not sure where we went or what we did. But then we went to visit my friend Doug at work.

The next day when I woke up, I found some sunglasses. According to Brit and Chey, I stole them from Doug's work. According to Doug, a security guard was following me the whole time cos I was so drunk, so I couldn't possibly have stolen them.

After visiting Doug we went to McDonalds, I'm not sure why. Brit and Chey ordered, while I passed out at my seat.

Pictured above: Pure classiness

I then woke up, just long enough to projectile vomit all over the windows, which were facing out onto Manners Mall. Cos I'm classy like that.

The people working at McDonalds tired to make me clean it up. My friends stood up for me.

We left McDonalds, and I somehow ended up getting separated from my friends. So I stumbled home, drunk, covered in vomit, at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon, through Central Wellington.

It turns out that Ben (my best friend at the time) had actually seen me as I was stumbling home, but saw what a mess I was and decided he didn't want anything to do with it.

I finally arrived back at the building, and was so drunk I couldn't figure out how to get back in. Luckily, a friend of Brit and Cheyenne's saw me, and helped me back in. Now I only lived on the fourth floor of the building, but the elevator ride seemed so long that I swear we were going to the 348913595th floor.

I tried really hard, but I couldn't hold it in.

I vomited all through the elevator. I finally got into my room, and passed out in my bed, covered in vomit.

I woke up at 7pm, vomited some more, and remembered that I had work. I threw on some new clothes, and crawled to work. I'm pretty sure I still had vomit in my hair, and I was still really drunk. Luckily the function that was meant to be on that night was cancelled, so I got to go home early. I'm not sure if my boss was grumpy or amused.

I met up with Brit and Chey after I'd finished work (around 9pm) and we went to a bar. I had one sip of my beer, decided that I had already had more than enough for the day, and sulked home, tail between my legs.

I vowed never to drink again... until a few days later.