I love my cats, but I don't think they're ever going to dial 911 for me and unlock the door for the police officer. I don't care if I sound like a cheesy announcer on Animal Planet: dogs are the shit.

Oh man. WORD. I can't wait until Wednesday.

So long, curse of the Bambino!

John Peel's death = a bummer.

I have heard great things about the Tunnocks Tea Cake, and found a shipment of them for an exorbitant price in Smith and Caughey's. I bought a packet, but let's hope I don't like them *too* much.

Taste update: wow. That is one fine example of biscuit-making. It's like a Mallowpuff, only somehow... more. I'm starting to understand their rabid fan following.

The internet rules because it lets you get the joke even if you don't have Saturday Night Live and barely know who Ashlee Simpson is. There are people in NZ laughing at you, Ashlee. I'm sorry to have to let you know.

Happy New Zealand Labour Day, all! (Ironically enough I'm at work. But I get overtime pay. And an extra day off. Thank you, nineteenth and early twentieth century labour movement. I truly appreciate your agitation and sacrifice. Workers unite!)

I have become obsessed with Alex's link to the current electoral vote predictor. I visit daily and try to make sense of it. Nine days to go until our fate is sealed, for good or ill. (Yes, I have been reading a lot of Jane Austen recently.) By the way, Americans, could you bloody well reform your electoral system already? It's so fucked! (Um, well, actually only if you really want to and think it's a good idea. I don't want to come across like a Guardian reader in Ohio or anything. And yes, I do brush my teeth.)

Last night James came over and we stayed up really late channel-surfing. We managed to see the Diana Ross episode of the Muppets. She sang 'Love Hangover' with a chorus line of giant flamingoes and an enormous multicoloured dancing parrot. And that was the understated, classy number. James also showed us the promotional film clip for Leonard Nimoy's 'Bilbo Baggins'. I cannot fully express to you the weirdness of it all. Not only did he frolic with go-go dancers wearing pointed ears, but each of them was wearing a badge exhorting us to vote for Nimoy for the U.N. Blame Canada!

We have REM tickets. For March 26 next year. In New Plymouth. The 'naki! I never thought I would be going to New Plymouth again to see a band after the dodgy journey to the Jethro Tull biker convention! (Don't even ask.) Lawrence and Vanessa and Brent and I are taking a road trip. Get your kicks, on... the West Coast Surf Highway. (I think perhaps we need a NZ version of a road trip song.)

We are in a house of mourning: the Astros went down to the St Louis Cardinals in the seventh game of the series with a whimper, not a bang. I am bravely Pollyanna-ing with 'they've never got this far before! they beat the Braves! they won a playoff series! they won the wild card race! in August everyone thought they were total shit! look what they achieved!' but Brent is a sad wee man in his 70s-Astro-orange shirt, and it must be said that the 'stros choked fairly comprehensively. Sigh. (And does this mean that Texas gets a karmic consolation prize and Bush will win again? Because if you're a particularly ridiculous kind of superstitious person, that's the kind of thing you wonder.) Well, baseball season is nearly over, and cricket season's about to start. At least I've had some practice in being disappointed already! This was like a dry run for the inevitably immense Black Caps frustration, which continues until March or so...

Magnificently and wistfully beautiful song of the evening: 'Joed Out' by the Verlaines. Bless Dunedin.

We are staying here in Sydney next month. It is not charming, or heritage, or designer, or in any way groovy. However, it is cheap and has the added attraction of being 700 metres from the venue, across Hyde Park. None of this public transport and taxi malarkey if you're only in the country for 36 hours!

It was weird going to the American Consulate today. The security guard had a gun. Bush, Powell, and Cheney were grinning disturbingly down at me from the wall, and the consul himself was wearing the kind of khaki pants you only find in the USA. He made me raise my right hand and swear that the information I gave in my passport replacement application was true and correct. I kept laughing, which he seemed to find entertaining.

The Astros' dream run continues. I am stunned. Fingers crossed for tomorrow.

I am currently placing about a million interloan requests for a researcher at AUT who is studying carpal tunnel syndrome and repetitive strain injury. Ironically enough, her study of this issue is actually *causing* carpal tunnel syndrome and repetitive strain injury. In me.

Oh, Astros. You did it. You won a playoff series for the first time in the entire history of your franchise. After 43 years! Bless!

I am such a moron for not taking any photos of my (and Kat's) birthday drinks. But you see, the barman at Pitch, whose name was something like Raoul - Rolondo? Rashid? Raj? Ranjeeta? Rikki-Tikki-Tavi? - was very nice and put all our coats and jackets in his wee back room for the duration, and of course the camera-phone was in the jacket pocket, and so it just never occurred to me. So let me say that the bar was very small and very red and had squashy felty things on the walls and big round seats and Ra-something made a delightful - if disturbingly expensive - chocolate martini with a Hershey's kiss at the bottom of it, and the music was good all evening, and lots of people came and gave me hugs and presents, and I had a lovely time. Hooray!

Congratulations to young Rach, newest team leader at Auckland City Libraries! From wee teen shelver to terrifying management figure in less than a decade! Also, now you are very rich. (Comparatively.) Yay!

I have a few things to say about my birthday.

1) I like cake. I like the lovely healthy diet-friendly orange/carrot/banana/semolina cake that Hannah spent so long baking for me. I like the diet-ruining strawberry cheesecake that Brent bought from The Cheesecake Shop and decorated with little '30' candles. Cake! It is unadulterated joy!

2) I like presents. This is self-explanatory, really. Thank you everyone!

3) More unusually, I like fries. I have not had fries since June. I ate them yesterday. Yay.

4) I like my mother, who made me a lovely lamb casserole and a salad with lots of hardboiled eggs in it and didn't even put up her usual egg-lovin' fight when I took them all. Such sacrifice!

This entry has a lot of food in it. Hrm.

I am spending the final day of my 20s at Akoranga, surrounded by angry midwifery students and crazy psychotherapy students. Additionally, my left ear is still blocked from last night's swim. Everything is mundane. I feel that something irresponsible should happen today in order to mark this completely artificially constructed psychological boundary. Erm...

REM are playing *New Plymouth* in March 2005. Way to be!