My 10 Year old 2nd cousin has decided that I should change my name to either Brondon or Beeanka. He has also decided this is HILARIOUS.

I told him that I wouldn’t, because those are stupid names.

He then told me I should change my name to Bumhead.

Touché.

I enjoyed the 3 hour Coca Cola infomercial that was Christmas In The Park last night. But I did learn something that irked me greatly.

Apparently they cut Snoopy’s Christmas to make time for an Abba medley.

WTHeck.

Snoopy’s Christmas is one of, if not the, greatest Christmas songs ever created. It’s 10% about Christmas and then 90% about WAR!

Nothing sums up the Christmas Spirit better than an epic song with this moral: on one day a year it is better to just hang out and have fun than kill a people because they are from a different country.

If anything, Abba encourages me to do the exact opposite.

So well done Coca Cola for a fun night that had little to nothing to do with Christmas (seriously, Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance? Really?). But I am disappointed that yet again I will have to make do singing Snoopy’s Christmas to myself while pretending to fly around my bedroom like a fighter plane.

I found out that Christmas In The Park is tonight when I left my flat and was swept up by an overwhelming mass of people walking up Khyber Pass.

It’s ok though, I managed to get back inside by dropping to my hands and knees and crawling against the current, biting anyone who was in my way on the knees.

FYI, this is not a good way to battle against an actual strong current in a river/ocean.

So Paul Henry purposely and quite racistly mispronounces the name of Delhi Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit. This confirms his status in NZ as a giant fool and introduces the rest of the world to that fact.

I will only write Mrs Dikshit’s name, I will not attempt to say it out loud. Why? Because I don’t want to piss off the entire country of India.

I don’t want the potential next world super power hating me.

And I know because of the joke that is the Commonwealth games, some people are writing India off. They say India doesn’t have the ability to be great.

But I don’t believe that for a second.

There is nothing more impressive than a motivated Indian.

I’ve read Life Of Pi, those guys will survive anything.

Describing a runaway person using the metaphor of a runaway train. Very clever.

Except that trains are the single most traceable form of transport n earth.

OH CRAP, A TRAIN’S RUN AWAY! WHERE IS IT?!

Oh, there it is, on the tracks going the only place it can go.

Last night I went to a costume party with the theme of Honey I Shrunk The Kids.

I went as a cotton bud, because they are small.

Nobody got it and everybody just thought I was just some dick with cotton wool in his hair and pom poms on his feet.

I just saw some New Zealand actresses perform the Vagina Monologues tonight at The Basement.

It was a really good show, and the ladies were pretty much all great.

Go along to see it if you can, it is a fun, funny, educational and only slightly terrifying night out.

I have had a crap load of Mint Chocolate this weekend, lucky for me it’s my favourite kind of chocolate. It’s chocolate that makes your breath smell and taste delicious.

Did I have too much? Well my eye is twitching a bit, but I will never ever say I have had too much mint chocolate. EVER.