Posts (page 2)
GOK WAN IS AT THE BRUNSWICK WITH A BIG INFLATABLE SCREEN WITH GIANT PICTURES OF WOMEN IN THEIR UNDERWEAR! HE'S ASKED ME TO COME BACK TO INTERVIEW ME TO SAY "YEAH SHE HAS GREAT ARMS/LEGS/TITS ETC." HE'S SO LOVELY! GET DOWN THERE!
*calm* Phew, sorry about that, but I'm excited.
Hahahahaha.
Rotherham pros: surrounded by mostly farmer's fields, very little would wake me up, except for...
Rotherham cons: ...occasional explosions from the nearby steel works. Yes, explosions. One memorable large one was on the night of 11th September 2001. My sister and I ran to my room, fresh with fear from watching the news all day, to look out the window to see a mushroomy-style cloud in the distance. We were convinced for a second that it was terrorism, but then we realised that Rotherham may not be a target, and the whole thing was unfortunate coincidence.
London cons: People walking around at night leaving bars, clubs, and so on, yelling drunkenly at each other. The most memorable exclamation was the other night, with some bloke screaming louder than anyone has ever screamed before: "YOU FUCKING CUUUUUUNT!" at half three in the morning. I laughed it off and went back to sleep. Also, nearby there is a very cheap hostel that has a lot of young folk staying. This too can be briefly noisy, but there is an advantage in that...
London pros: ...you can totally watch chaps getting dressed. Nightly. Across the road from me.
If anyone can make it to my flat warming on Thursday night, rest assured the entertainment is sorted. Feel free to bring binoculars.
Ringtones: What's yours and how often do you change it?
Submitted by enrico.
*saddo*
In other news, I am hoping to miraculously recover from a massive cold by tomorrow, as I am going to my graduation ceremony in the afternoon. Lying down and being bunged-up enough so that your head starts spinning and the rooms begins moving is bloody horrible.
*fingers crossed for a very quick recovery*
Clowns: delightful or terrifying?
Traumatising.
It was 1997, Mum had died, and I was in Great Ormand Street Hospital to have the old hand surgery. I remember it being a post-op appointment, probably just a change of bandage, and Dad and I were sat in the plastic surgery ward - Tiger Ward - just waiting to be released.
One of the Hospital Clowns, who apparently cheer the children up, came up to me and handed me a flower attached to a wire, which would of course spring back to the clown's lapel if released. He handed the flower to me, saying "Flower for your mother!" and I put my hand out to get it, before, ho ho! It sprang back. It wasn't a flower for me, or indeed my dead mum at all! How droll.
Dad was seething and stared daggers at the clown, and managed not to thump him, or tell him to fuck off.
Of course, Twat Clown didn't know my mum had died and that I was feeling pretty sad as it was the summer holidays and not enjoying them as I had been in-and-out of hospital for weeks, and that I was shit scared about starting secondary school, but still, it was a very clowny thing to do because clowns are cruel, mean bastards. Everytime I see a clown now, I feel anger and fear, and the urge to kill. If I ever end up in a war battle situation, it would be useful to visualise the enemy as clowns.
...I seem to be sorting things out with the move pretty well, despite having a weird week in which I somehow ended up unexpectedly looking around Tooting - which was cool - and having people who are apparently helping me, tell me I am a mental for moving, and just general people putting me off, and saying how I need to apply for things and look at this and that, and oh my God, I have forgotten something else, and oh yes, I simply won't be able to manage everything, I'll just die, and then I wondered if I was just being very niave or incredibly calm, and then I realised that yeah, it will be hard and stuff at first, but everything is hard at first, and you don't get anything unless you work at it, and then it'll all work out in the end, and that is my optimism with the situation, and BREATHE.
Phew.
*eats chocolate*
A few hours ago, I came back from a couple of days in London with Dad. I had tests and an interview - which I didn't mention in the blog through jinxy fear - but I passed and aced that and now I am doing a postgrad in London, which starts in January.
I'll be moving down before then, and when Dad and I were walking around various areas, he pointed out places in which I should live, most of which looked like they were from Mary Poppins. Either Dad has some gold/oil to sell, or he thinks I am shacking up with a millionaire. Neither are likely, but anyway.
Now is the exciting/worrying time of moving out. Expect this blog to be a bit more annoying or exciting in the next few months, Lucy fans!
I've JUST got my Uni results! I got a 2:1!
I wasn't sure I would, as I got an overall 2:2 for the second year, but the third year swung it, and I did much better in that.
Further good news: I am due to start blogging at TV Scoop today/tomorrow, and I'll be getting paid to blog about TV. I am excited by this - MONEY - but also nervous - HOW WILL I COPE WITHOUT MENTIONING ADAM HART-DAVIS ALL THE TIME?
I have had a new game for my Nintendo Wii delivered, so I am going to have a jolly good play on that, and I might be out with friends later.
YAY!
This entry has been inspired - oh alright, copied - from Fox's entry on cats. I love dogs, and since our lovely dog Sandy died over ten years ago, I've always wanted another since. When walking past dogs I nearly always go "Oh hello! Awww!" and strike up conversation with them - making me look like a sad freak - and nothing warms my heart more than seeing a carer/guide-dog. How loyal, and caring are they?
So, it was probably a bad idea that I somehow stumbled upon The Oldies Club website this morning. For some reason, I had been up since half five, so I was feeling a bit all over the place anyway, but then looking at adorable OADs made me all sad. The Oldies Club helps old dogs find "forever homes" - a poetic and sweet way of saying 'a home which will care for them until they die, which will be soon'.
I won't go into the best dogs - as they are ALL special in my eyes, and I can't be arsed, so you can tell me which you like instead - but my favourite, I think, is 14-year-old Pugsey.
Apparently, he has had no interest in anything, yet he is still quite a character:
"Pugsey is a typical grumpy old man. He growls when he doesn’t want
to do something, for example if you stroke him, but apparently it’s
very funny!!!"
I like his style.
Look at him! He's lovely!
Like that bloody cat website Fox told us about, The Oldies Club also has a section for dogs no longer with us.
"Colonel has had to be put to sleep after losing all use of his
hindquarters. What a sad ending for this poor boy who has had such an
appalling life. Rest in peace, brave Colonel."
"Bath Cats and Dogs Home has informed us that Midge has very sadly passed away. Sleep tight Midge."
I'm so getting a dog one day.
Well the work is done, and I have finished. I feel weird at the minute, but yesterday was cool.
Went into Uni, handed my work in, had a nice chat with a friend, and then I walked around sadly grinning for a bit.
On the way home, Dad and sister and I went to pick up a celebration cake from Costco, which we'd ordered a couple of days ago. They didn't have any mortar board designs, so I picked a rainbow.
However, it turned out to look like the gayest cake in the world, so you can now all congratulate me on my unexpected coming out - everybody else has:
Let me tell you, it is the loveliest cake in the whole world. It has creamy icing, and it is so fluffy. There is loads of it left as it is massive, so I am looking forward to conquering it like Everest.
