Inadequate Signage

This morning, I got up, and it turns out two things I’ve been waiting for have arrived – the mirror for Wendy (my car) and my IRD (tax) number.

I can has paycheck? W00t!

I spent a couple of minutes out in the sun working on the car, got the mirror in place after a few missteps, so now I’m WoF (car inspection) ready. 

After that, Kelly and Melanie asked me if I wanted to head to the beach.  I went with ‘em.  Had a good time until Kelly got dizzy.  Very dizzy.  Worryingly dizzy.  She assured me she was fine, but she obviously wasn’t – she could barely stand, we had to help her back to the shore. 

When I got back, I watched the Opening Ceremonies for a few hours – loved the Canadian slam-poet, but I feel sad for whoever’s job it was to get that fourth pillar of the Olympic cauldron working.  Someone, somewhere, didn’t budget for redundant hydraulics. 

Afterwards, I did some googling for gay bars in Tauranga, (not that I hook up easily, but a gay bar’s just about the only place where it’s not an awkward question to ask if someone’s gay) and a place came up near where I worked.  I head down there.  Right address, but no signage whatsoever. 

I head in.  There’s disco lights going on, so I think I’ve got the right place.

I’m welcomed in, and I’m still not sure I’ve got the right place since there’s no signage. 

“Hello – uh, what is this place?”

Turns out, whatever gay bar used to be in Tauranga no longer exists, and the new tenants at the old address are a brothel. 

(Prostitution is legal in New Zealand.)

I left pretty quickly, pointing out that there really should be more signage. 

And yes, I know Mom reads this blog.  Hi, mom!