Dec. 2nd, 2010

bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)
I've been dreaming odd things, like a virus that turns people into douchebags and somehow leads me to an underground cookie warehouse with a pudgy middle-aged topless androgynous but probably female head of security who has writing all over hir skin in sharpie and keeps secretly rearranging the toffees so the colours don't pattern as well. Also, before I finished reading Alan Moore's Voice of the Fire, I dreamed an extra chapter to it - one set in the future instead of the past - and took a while to remember that no, that wasn't actually part of the book. I no longer remember what happened in the dream-chapter, but I'm done with the real book now and I have got to say it was pretty awesome. I definitely reccommend it to anyone who enjoys a bit of grue in their some and appreciates cool stylistic devices, and/or is interested in British history. But trust me on the grue.

My boyfriend had a St Andrew's Day party, in which he and a couple of his friends cooked ALL OF THE SCOTTISH FOOD, if by Scottish you mean made of oats. I missed the bit with the potato cakes and the whole roast duck because of a meeting I had to go to at uni, but I got to partake of oatcakes, alcohol, oat-related alcohol, roast lamb and stew (as far as I know, not containing oats) and a sort of oat-and-nut dessert thing which turned out to be quite nice on top of oatcake. With tea.

Also I trolled a Bear Grylls fan and was briefly subject to the awkward realisation that I was wedged on a couch between a dude with a girl on his lap on one side, and two chicks making out on the other. I couldn't decide if I should feel intrusive or left out. Later, a fridge magnet flower fell into Tallulah's cleavage in such perfect arrangement that I assumed it was there on purpose, but it turned out she hadn't even noticed it was there. Or possibly earlier, my memory fails me. Alcohols!

Deadlines are starting to threaten to loom, but I have gotten done SOME things of use, so I feel sort of okay. I have applied for cross-institutional study, this time BEFORE the office closes for the new year, which is an improvement on last time, so I might actually get to do that this time.

I shall leave you with a hilarious anecdote from a friend of my mother's, a Russian woman. Her husband's job took him to New Zealand for several months on a contract. His final day there, he got really drunk, fell over, bashed his head open on something and woke up in hospital, still tipsy. He then decided he did not need to be in hospital, removed his IV drip, walked out and caught a taxi. In the taxi he ripped out the IV nozzle from his vein and started bleeding everywhere. Somehow, the Kiwis still let him on a plane - he showed up at his wife's doorstep in Sydney, drunk and covered in blood, right on schedule.

My mum's only comment was to sigh and shake her head and say "Russian men, you know. This is why your father doesn't drink."


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Captain Oblivious

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