bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)
I have this vague plan to go to Supanova in June as Delirium, from Sandman. This plan involves a lot of fishnet and dying my hair orangey-blonde with rainbow streaks. Now because it's a month away I haven't given much thought to the specifics, but then...

Lily: Do you need your hair bleached? My friend Yoko is an apprentice hairdresser and she needs practice with non-Asian hair! It's really cheap because she's a student!
Me: ...
Lily: Her boss is this really famous guy who does six-hundred-dollar haircuts for famous people!
Me: ...kay?

What the hell, I figure, I should get some feeling for what my hair does when it is bleached. So long story short I show up at this salon with Lily. It's called RAR or RAW or something trendy and guttural like that. We hang around for a bit on the fancy cushions waiting for Yoko. Six Hundred Dollar Haircut Guy swans in. He is a bit camp but inexplicably wearing navy tights with suspenders. He's coordinating several students and junior hairdressers, by the look of it.

Further Adventures OF Hairdying )
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
Um right so. Twilight drinking game was fun! I blame Edward's hair for my subsequent headache.

Right now I am procrastinating on two items: 1. essay due Wednesday on an incredibly open topic WHERE DO I STAAAART and 2. going down to the junction for to return a DVD my dad left with me before fucking off to new zealand with my mum.

Other things my parents left behind: a total lack of margarine and a shitload of zuchini. What do I do with this much zuchini, you guys? I have been replacing the marga with avocado because leaving the house ew. But I have never eaten a zuchini! In fact nobody in my house regularly eats zuchini, so I do not understand why my mother bought like twenty of them right before going on holiday!

The main reason I am not returning the DVD, aside from general leaving the house ew, is the torrential rain outside my window. It is seriously niagara falls out there. My grandparents, brother and cat all got caught in it, because my grandparents, brother and cat all leave the house.

To be fair I barely spent a consecutive twelve hours in this house for most of the last month, so this week I am perfectly justified in hibernating. The trouble is not having to GO anywhere seems to equate in my brain with not having to DO anything, so this essay is not turning out well.

Incidentally my sodden cat looks like a hedgehog and has taken shelter in my lap. It is extroadinarily fun to give a cat a noogie when the fur on the top of its head is sticking up like a twelve year old boy that's got into his dad's hairgel. I have been trying unsuccessfully to think of a way to relate this to twitter without sounding vaguely dirty.
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
Today my dad and I set up my new computer! Stan promised to help seeing as he's the one that convinced me to actually build it from parts, but we literally could not find a two hour block over the next two weeks during which we were both free at the same time. So instead my dad and I squinted at instruction manuals and I sent Stan occasional MSN updates such as "fun fact: the quick start guide is written in French, Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Bahasa, Viet, Turkish and two Arabic languages. The full technical instruction manual is written in English" and "should I be more worried that my dad dropped the hard drive?"

In the end it booted up so we must have done it right! But I did not finish installing Windows on it because then it was time to head up to Kensington for Gathy's 21st birthday party. There was a bar tab but I started off the night by actually paying for a screwdriver in the hope that crappy on-tap wine would taste better if I was already sort of drunk. It sort of worked! The party was good fun. I caught up with the Russian~ crowd. Aryeh stole my hat. I had a lengthy and hilarious discussion with Toly in which I regaled him with the awful capslock poetry of one of my tutoring students and he in turn explained to me the premise of the novel he wrote while in Norway photographing moss. Both of these were ridiculous but I shall not explain them here on the basis that This Is The Internet and Someone Will Find It (a corollary of Murphy's Law). In the first case it is professional ettiquette whereas in the second the issue is that I really was quite drunk and honestly don't remember if he was serious when he enjoined me not to tell anyone what the novel was about. Suffice to say that Sasha walked up to us around the bit where I was earnestly asking "but what about misc. soup?" and just shook his head and walked away.

I also met Alex's new boyfriend (who was from New Zealand and could have had a Jesus-face off with Avi), and a whole bunch of randoms (the vodka helped). And I ran into someone from my high school who turned out to work at the hotel! I mean ran into quite literally here. Then I ate a lot of cake and explained to some total stranger that me and Stan had judged her breasts the second best in the room, which is going to be embarrassing tomorrow morning when I am sober. Or, well, let's face it, since I have no idea who she was, probably not. Besides, she was flattered. Privileges of femaleness.

Around midnight the place closed up so we got kicked out, whereupon most of the crowd dispersed and Liza tried to ride a skateboard while tipsy and in stilettos. Then I caught a bus home to discover I had chocolate in my hair and my parents had sprung a scheduling change on me for tomorrow's family thing, which meant I had to change a tutoring shift at short notice AGAIN, rar. Anyway, now it is three am, so. sleep tiem nau!

PS: Speaking of New Zealand, this is the best ad I've seen all week. Sheep + LEDs = genius!
bliumchik: (Default)
Livejournal! I have taken another painkiller and now I am evaluating my sock drawer! What are your thoughts on stockings with holes above the hemline!?

On the one hand, crotch holes! On the other hand, it is not as if I plan to flash people! On the- ...held between my arm and my ribcage, I do not need as many stockings as I have including the dubious ones, because I am only likely to wear them to fancy parties and/or if I get a job with a dress code at some point in the future.

Tangentially how awesome is Brian Molko? He is very awesome.

I have so many more stockings than I knew. My grandmother kept giving me them when I was in high school and for some reason never bought regulation pants for winter (they were expensive, but probably if you added up ALLLL those stockings there was not that much difference) but I have never systematically gone through all of them before. However it is now the last bastion of chaos in my wardrobe and so I am determined to vanquish it! Rar!
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (splode?)
Let's hear it for painkillers! Only this morning I was rolling around on my mother's bed and moaning that I was dying and now I am wearing an awesome beanie and giggling at squirrel catapults and playing Fall Out Boy trail and let me tell you the latter would not be so amusing if I was not so incredibly, incredibly high.

Okay I'm not that high, they were only painkillers. ...from a prescription I got three years ago and I don't remember for what. ...on top of some panadol. IDK! My womb is no longer full of termites! I am happy!

Also hungry and horribly, horribly sweaty.

whassuuuuup?
bliumchik: Jack Harkness says Allo, I have come to have sex with your species  (sex!)
now that my legs are no longer waging revolt upon me. I would post photos but did not take any, so I shall have to post a thousand words to make up for it!

glitter and glue )

It was good fun and honestly I saw almost as much of the parade and definitely got equally sore feet to last year, when I was on the sidelines but through a series of frankly typical events ended up late, three people back from the barricades on an extortionately priced stool. Would volunteer again! Hopefully next time I will either sign up as a gopher in the first place or my section will get extra megaphones!
bliumchik: (Default)
I no longer remember who linked me to this but you guys. TEARS. TEARS OF LAUGHTER. Even if you have no idea who Warren Ellis or Alan Moore are, go have a listen. (He wrote Watchmen and V for Vendetta, you heathens :P) I love it when comics people tell Alan Moore stories, he is like that strange spinster auntie that comes out with non sequiters at parties and sometimes knits you things that shouldn't be awesome but somehow are.

Today me and Lily wrote a song that reminds me alternately of The Nightmare Before Christmas and the Lonely Goatherd song. I feel the urge to yodel creepily. Actually we didn't finish writing it, I'm not that good at coming up with words on the fly yet, but we have the basic gist of it. Also met up with Avi and Stan and Jess and ate a free hot dog (I did not catch what it was in honour of) and then some semolina pudding pressed upon me by an earnest member of the UNSW Hare Krishna Society. Yum, semolina! Avi also took advantage of their free vegetarian lunch thing. Then I went to class and managed to, well.

See, we were talking about Maslow's Heirarchy in the context of ads and what exactly they appeal to, because one of our assignments involves being given a crappy ad and asked to improve it, by means of drawing up a different version for each step of the pyramid. (I find it hilarious at this point to think about Melissa's HSC Extension 2 English project which she planned to base on Maslow, but it ended up being about sex, which was awkward when it came to Mentor Review.) (Speaking of awkward, during the lecture there was an ad relating to penis enlargement on the screen. It was a clever ad but the way the lecturer danced around saying the word "penis" was hilarious to behold.)

Anyway, the tutor decided to give us some practice and put a slide of rainwater tanks on the screen. "Okay," he says, "Let's start with physiological. Who's got some ideas for slogans?" Obviously I had some ideas, but that is beside the point. Ten minutes later we get to Ego. And uh. It just kind of slipped out.

"My tank is bigger than yours!" I mumbled. ...very audibly.

My tutor literally facepalmed.

At least I managed to keep the comment about zombie apocalypses sotto voce during the Safety discussion.
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
The building in which my awesome stickfighting1 class is held is Undergoing Construction. Anyone who has any experience with builders knows that a site can remain in this state for practically infinite periods of time, entering a sort of Perpetual Construction Zone in which walled-off areas grow into the architecture and you start imagining that the construction noises are in time with the elevator music.

What I'm saying is, I got to my class two weeks ago and found the plaza and stairs all boarded up, with signs directing me to the main building lifts to get down to the right level. Once you descend you find yourself in a maze of twisty tunnels, all alike. In the distance you hear the eldritch sounds of industrial drills. You see a sign reading "Dentist" with an arrow pointing in an indeterminate direction. What would you like to do?
> look around
there are three exits.
> go north
which way is north? you are underground.
> take the first exit
that is not an exit. You were deceived by an inexplicably protruding temporary wall.
> take the second exit
you follow the corridor until you see a large sign reading ITC. you have reached your destination.
> hit some things with some sticks
you hit some things with some sticks. You are now sweaty, poorer by fifteen dollars and full of endorphins. Also your bus leaves in ten minutes. What would you like to do?
> leave
you are standing outside ITC. There are three exits.
> take exit I came in by
which exit did you come in by?
> um
your bus is now leaving in eight minutes.
> take first exit
You follow the corridor to a padlocked door.
> go back
your bus is now leaving in seven minutes.
> take second exit
you are now standing in front of a lift.
> press button
you press the button
> wait
nothing happens.
> press the button again
you lean on the button. Your bus now leaves in five minutes.
> go back
you are standing outside ITC. There are three exits.
> take the third exit
you follow the corridor to another dead end.
> go back
your bus now leaves in three minutes.
> flail
a stocky Chinese man sticks his head out the doors to ITC. "Wait." He says. "All go together." He goes back inside.
> ...
your bus now leaves in two minutes.
> go back inside
the door is stuck.
> yell through door
somebody helps you open the door.
> flail
the Chinese man returns. "Right, going now." He says. Everybody gets up to follow him.
> follow everybody
you join the herd. You are now standing outside the lifts. The Chinese man swipes a card at a security light and presses the lift button.
> facepalm
the lift arrives.
> pile in
you squish into the lift next to that ditzy blonde hippy with the dreads and spiky armpit hair.
> make awkward joke
everybody titters. The lift has now arrived at ground level.
> SWEET SWEET FREEDOOOOOOM.
you're welcome. PS you missed your bus.

Two weeks later and the temporary walls were still in place. A small sign by the lifts proudly declared that demolition was finished! but miscellaneous drilling would continue for up to six months. It therefore seemed the maze was there to stay. We had a group of new students that day. At the end of the class I collapsed into a chair, resigned to missing my bus and waiting for the next one and so in no hurry, and incidentally in a trance-like state from fatigue and euphoria.

"Well then bye everyone!" Calls one of the new guys, as they walk out the door.

"Bye," I mutter absently, echoed by a dude with a shaven head whose name I do not recall, also resting in a chair.

About a minute passes.

"Huh," I eventually say. "We possibly should have mentioned the Exit Problem, shouldn't we?"

"Let them have their fun," grins the dude.

Too true, shaven-head guy, too true.



1 I ran into a couple of girls from my school on the way there. They were approximately the twenty three trillionth people to mishear "eskrima" as "eskimo" which was the last straw so I am now officially referring to it as Awesome Stickfighting.
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (splode?)
And apparently by "tomorrow" I mean "unspecified date in the future" lol. Uh I just thought I should pop on and let y'all know I am not in the part of my country which is just slightly a little bit on fire at the moment, nor the bit that's underwater. It's actually raining lightly here, but I am nevertheless regarding it suspiciously. I totally didn't hear about it till last night as I stayed up watching South Park at Stan's place and then ended up staying there the whole next day. We watched a hilarious Russian movie in which a young Finnish bloke called Rayval gets his Russian friend to take him along on a Real Russian Hunting Trip. Featuring Sweaty Naked Dudes Vs. Drunk Bear for your entertainment. Wonderful! (Also for SOME REASON we ended up googling sexual positions for pregnant women. Look I DON'T KNOW OKAY. And for the record "pregnant sex" = terrible choice of search terms, Stan.)

And then I came home and the death toll was in the hundreds. It was rather unsettling. Anyway I don't know anyone who's in danger or lost stuff (according to [livejournal.com profile] drjon there's info on donations and stuff here) so... I guess I'm just gonna go right ahead with the belated Forster post. But, holy crap, shit down there is just fucking razed, you guys. Holy crap.

for anyone who cares about my hilarious beachside adventures with Nicky )

Anyway, that was that. For once I actually wrote about a long offline period instead of putting it off so long I forgot about it!

In other news, Lily finally sent me the file for one of the songs we recorded at her place a few weeks ago. Bone Weather, rough acoustic version. What do you guys think!? I sort of need to work on my low-pitch wail. Or, you know, warm up at all :P now, to find a drummer and a bassist! Also hopefully a keyboardist/second guitarist, but we could do a band comp without those. It's really lame to go onstage without a drummer.
bliumchik: Mommy, I dropped my giant cowsicle!  :( (Um.)
Argh. Somehow I have to learn how not to freak out in large groups of people. Either that or identify the critical mass at which just one extra person tips the group over into "too many." I couldn't sleep and I had this long emo rant about bottomless pits and my intimacy issues and then I realised that totally wasn't the point, I was just projecting thanks to reading too much fanfiction: the point was I got edgy when the crowd showed up, mellowed out briefly thanks to something blue in a martini glass (those things are hard to carry, it's like the angle of the glass was purposefully designed for ease of spillage) and possibly should have quit while I was ahead and gone home before I sobered up.

The really interesting thing is that my meltdowns are always postponed these days. Gone are the days of sneaking off to the bathroom in the middle of dinner to wear fingerprints in somebody else's sink and try not to cry. Now all the tension is stored up in my shoulders like a coiling spring to be let out when it's over. On the one hand this means that there is no way to KNOW whether leaving earlier would have been an improvement, but on the other hand it's probably not that healthy. I do it during family fights, as well, in fact we all have the tendency and it means an argument is never really over, because we don't settle it so much as dismiss it, only to have it rise up later as a generic resentment that has no answer.

Another paradox is that I feel like I have to get the rest of my life in order to not feel so unmoored in social situations... yet it's pretty much impossible to find a corner of my life that is NOT social. I should have just gone into science, then I would have had an excuse to be a misfit. Also then I could have built a death ray. It just doesn't feel the same to cackle "I'll show them all! I'll write baffling yet poignant poetry in small obscure magazines and own many strange hats!"
bliumchik: (Default)
I don't really think LJ is going to actually die, but just in case I LJ-Secced everything to my insanejournal account, not that I intend to actually use it, but it will do for a backup. I uh. Think I might have accidentally set all entries to friendsonly? And have no friends on insanejournal? Cos I usually just use OpenID to comment there. So that link was pretty useless. *handswavy*

Anyway. The monsterpile on my bedroom floor has separated into a bunch of smaller piles on my bed (NEEDS MOAR FLOAR), so I should have internets in my room again tomorrow!

Meanwhile: my dad came home and switched on the TV to discover a scene of carnage. We watched in horrified fascination as this resolved into a french horror B-movie vaguely based on Lovecraft in which there were flying octopuses from another dimension and everyone panicked and screamed a lot. In French.
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (splode?)
Argh, why am I awake at nine in the morning? Cassie's parents said they'd drop me off at the station on the way to tennis and then after we had already all woken up they decided they were too tired to go to tennis and went back to sleep so now I am totally awake for no reason. Teeeea.

One of Cassie's Burmese cats has taken a liking to me and is batting my elbow with its nose on the offchance I might have food hiding in my shirt. It's adorable. The guest bedroom contains a hilariously mobile bed which thumps and squeaks whenever you so much as stretch in it, so obviously I went to sleep giggling at the thought that I really hope nobody has ever tried having sex in it, because my mind is sort of like that.

The party was pretty fun but possibly not worth all the bother getting there, argh. I met up with Cassie at Bondi Junction and then got on a 387 before realising I had neglected to ascertain where to get off the 387 and the bus driver proved useless, so I called Stan. "What street have you just passed?" he says. "Nnnnnewcastle," says I. "Oh good," he says. "You're close. It's like three or four streets past that, right? Guys?" followed by some business with the phone static and apparently a confirmation, so we got off a couple stops later and started to walk. And walk. Annnnd walk. The street we were looking for completely failed to present itself. A few more phone calls and some juggling on the other side gave the phone to Sam, the guy hosting the party, and several more phone calls to him plus some directions from some friendly pizza place people FINALLY got us to the right place, ONE HOUR after we left Bondi Junction. We watched the nine o'clock fireworks from a hill with a bunch of randoms in flip flops. My feet were not impressed with this "three or four streets" business.

Anyway, we finally arrived and pulled up some chairs, whereupon the night improved dramatically, especially for my feet. There was vodka but no orange juice, there were hilarious drunk dudes who spent five minutes trying to subtly point out to another drunk dude that a girl was wearing a meshy dress over red undies while said dude completely failed to notice, there was Gathy in a defaced labcoat and Sam in a bathrobe (the latter because it's his goddamn house, I guess, but the other who knows!), there was teaching Cassie to play Durak and a frustrating round of Cheat wherein the guy immediately to my left constantly called BS on everybody's plays until he had all the cards, not incidentally also constantly moving play back to HIS left and SKIPPING MY TURN RAR.

There was a pretty awesome view for the midnight fireworks, and then immediately afterwards Sam's mother booted us unceremoniously out of the house, whereupon there was MOAR WALKING ARGH to somebody elses house, whereupon it was discovered that everybody who goes home in my direction had meeelted away (Liza) and Cardgame Foiler Guy pointed out that buses were going to be a bitch, so I just decided to sleep over at Cassie's house when her parents came to pick her up. In retrospect that probably took as much TIME as navigating the buses but was less stressful.

Hanyway, I believe Cassie's dad is now ready to drive so I should go. Happy New Year eljay!
bliumchik: baffled cat is baffled (OMGWTF)
Ugh ugh I just accidentally inhaled some Aeroguard while sweeping the yard. Then I was startled by a mosquito large enough to rampage through Tokyo (don't think I'm not onto you, Firefox dudes) whereupon I shrieked and dropped the broom and ran away like the giant wuss I am. I don't remember who half the people on my IM list are and I just signed up to the Mountain Goats forum. Also my parents have somehow convinced me to spend three days in Port Stevens with them. It's two days before christmas and I have boughten exactly uno presento and I'm finally reading the Vorkosigan series and I need to practice guitar more and Will Eisner is a genius and I miss hitting things with sticks and can you get high on Aeroguard? I seem to have misplaced my punctuation. My library is all out of Terry Pratchett books for the next two weeks! My neighbors need a bass downgrade! My hat has glitter on it!

("life is too short to refrain from eating jam out of jars". I really hate insectoid forms of life. We're out of marshmallows! Send help!)
bliumchik: (Default)
Hokay, so. Shoooow.

Nobody answered my call for company but I discovered that some people from my high school were going and tagged along with them. This wasn't even awkward at first, since I'm so much better at sitting back and listening during the bits of conversations that don't involve my input without either feeling left out or jumping in with random shit and sounding like a tool (you should have met me six years ago, seriously). Of course then we accumulated some randoms in the form of a dude I met at the Zombie Lurch who just sort of showed up and recognised me, and a friend of his who showed up later and turned out to go to my uni. So THAT was a little awkward in that I ended up straddling the border between two conversations for the rest of the night, but my multitasking is pretty decent and I am perfectly capable of simultaneously going *g* at Beth picking cat hair off Rachel's cardigan and nodding earnestly at Christian's flood of Random Facts About Musicians He Has Met.

We claimed a spot where we could sit down that would have a decent view of the stage when the band came on and we stood up, and then waited for ages because Manning is pretty slow (well, I say that, I've been there all of twice, lol). Anyway the opening band, Baseball finally came on about fortyfive minutes after the doors opened. The internet had been going "umm srsly? that is such a weird choice, goats, wtf?" but Christian and his friend had been enthusing about them, so I made ready to go and mosh, but then, well. To put it bluntly, then they started playing. And, okay, they had a good rhythm section, so I can see how moshing could theoretically have been happening, but you guys, the music basically consisted of an electric fiddle and a shitload of incoherent screaming at top volume. Not my idea of a good time. So I left C and friend to it and went to sit back down with my friends, who spent the songs exchanging eyebrowtastic looks and the brief intervals during which we could hear ourselves think trying to figure out what the hell the "singer" was actually SAYING. I suspect most of the crowd, being fans of the Mountain Goats, who are COMPLETE 180 from that, was similarly unimpressed. You could sort of tell by the collective posture of the crowd. Of course I am informed by Christian that the Goats are fans of heavy metal and this was the metaliest band they could get away with, in which case I say... well, each to their own, I guess.

Anyway, the Mountain Goats FIIIINALLY came on, by god, and by then the place was pretty packed, so I didn't try to get down to the floor but I did move up towards the front a little bit. Sadly the result of that was to place me directly in front of the speakers for the first two songs, which were a) energetic & loud and b) had levels a little overbalanced towards the drums, so oww. I moved after that, and also they got a little more relaxed (and hell, maybe the sound folks made adjustments too) and after that it was a completely enjoyable experience. John Darnielle (Goats singer-songwriter, for those not In The Know) is utterly adorable with his dorky haircut and rambly stories. He started off by asking if any of us had ever flown to the US, or, like, spent four days awake on speed, because in either case we would understand how he felt right then. Jetlag kicked in in force around Michael Myers Resplendant and he sort of paused and went "wait, what am I singing" and had to start over.

It cannot have helped that they were all wearing THREE PIECE SUITS under the stage lights, what the hell? I am told it is Part Of The Image but I do not understand how they do not MELT. I was just talking to [livejournal.com profile] softlyforgotten about the relative (literal) hotness of the Mountain Goats and Panic at the Disco: how Brendon Urie is a sweaty drippy mess in every Panic show pic ever, and all he ever wears is a flimsy shirt, while these guys are onstage dressed like businessmen, with fuckin' TIES on, just sorta, y'know, chillin'. Did they sell their souls to the god of air conditioning or what? Are they maybe vampires with no body heat issues? I would just like to take a moment to nominate the Mountain Goats for the Least Likely Band To Be Vampires Ever, ahaha, that would be brilliant and hilarious.

Now as y'all are aware I have totally fallen in love with their music over the past few months, to the point of managing to write an essay during which I listened to Lovecraft In Brooklyn eighty nine times without getting sick of it (and Christian insists I should post said essay, which, maybe I will after I get my marks back). Most of the songs were just as awesome live, and some more so, possibly due to the little stories that went with them (I for one had no idea that In Craters On The Moon was about drugs, what the hell? and I never really liked Wild Sage, but seeing John sing it has definitely upped my empathy level a bit) and the band was incredibly professional and sounded awesome. The bassist was very stoic and unimpressed-looking and a little snarky, and gave someone the set-list at the end. At one point the heat must have finally gotten the better of him and he took his jacket off. Revealing. A black vest. With, like, teddy bears on it or something, I couldn't quite make it out at that distance. SERIOUSLY, YOU GUYS.

They "closed" on Lovecraft in Brooklyn, saying that Australians seemed to love the song more for some reason, and then came back for an encore. I still wished it had lasted longer. A++ despite shitty openers. I was especially charmed by John's earnest explanation that they don't have a set playlist and basically it depends on what he feels like singing that day, because he never wants to HAVE to sing something or get sick of something or complacent.

I guess the electric fiddle didn't fill the fail quota though because on the way back I called my girlfriend and managed to sort of miss my bus stop a little bit and slightly have to walk halfway across the city. *looks sheepish* At least she calmed me down though, I was pretty wired coming out of there. Excitement plus people I'm not entirely at home with (ha!) can make me a little edgy and paranoid. This is why I don't do drugs, you guys :P. Anyway, whatever, GOOD TIEMS, people, feel free to make with the chagrin at not coming with.
bliumchik: (Default)


Where have I been this week, o worthy citizens of Livejournal? making lolcats. Also: Sulking, procrastinating, horse-riding, play-watching, more procrastinating and sulking, watching movies and reading fanfiction, with small breaks for rolling around in pain on Sunday, Tuesday and Saturday. For three entirely unrelated reasons. Ladies and gentlemen: my week! )

This weekend was pretty much the antithesis of last weekend, I did absolutely nothing except suffer debilitating cramps and devour the internet. Colbert Report fanfiction, you guys, seriously. SERIOUSLY. *hums* I read a Daily Show/Doctor Who crossover and I liked it... ALSO, masses of youtube clips, and was delighted to learn that Stephen Colbert is a D'n'D nerd who speaks Elvish. I actually seriously heart these guys for all that I never expected to read fanfic about them (I should have. THIS IS THE INTERNEEEETS). Despite the awesome deadpan I especially love the irony-breakdown moments when their own hilarity gets the better of them and they just crack up giggling, because it's rare to see people just having so much fun on TV. Also, they sing! (I absolutely adore Colbert's willingness to make a complete fool of himself on camera. It's adorable.)

Aaaand since then I've pretty much just been messing about with lolcats and failing to write my resume. What's new with you, internets?
bliumchik: (Default)
Woo, partay. Melissa inexplicably decided on a Mafia theme but I was the only one who went all out. EVERYBODY came in a fedora, I was the only one with suspenders and a mascara mustache, oh yeah! We met up at the Argyle (which was more suitable for a Pirate theme, arrg) and when I say met up, I mean I got there half an hour late and Melissa showed up ten minutes after me. The bouncer did a gangster fistbump or something with me as I came in, and the other one made a reference to Movember. Then they looked doubtfully at the longhaired ten-year-old in my passport photo (I have a... shortage of ID at the moment) but let me in. The courtyard was crowded as hell and I desperately looked around for someone I recognised, but found only some drunken random who came up to me and called me Mickey and asked to get his photo taken with me. I swear, this only happens to me! (Although two other people who showed up later claimed to have been accosted by randoms as well, respectively addressed as "George Michael" and "Michael Jackson" so, you know, it could have been the same guy...)

mustachio'd shenanigans )

In short, nice day, early start tomorrow (well, early for ME, lol nine in the morning) and good night!
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
Hurray, I have my phone back! You never think about how much you depend on things until you lose them. It doubles as my watch and alarm clock, not to mention people can't, you know, call me. Anyway, today I got on a 391 at the start of its journey, at my uni, and stayed on it till the end of the route, at Botany Depot. It was incredibly boring. I spent the bus ride adding details to the characters I'm noooot writing for that Battle Royale RP (yet) and trying not to think about sex. I don't know what it is about public transport - it's gotta be either the boredom or the vibration, or possibly some mildly disturbing combination of the two, but I always find myself drifting off into, at best, idle speculation, and then mentally slapping myself because, NOT THE TIME, MAGGIE. I was mostly joking about the vibration. I used to think about sex a lot in math class too. BACK TO THE STORY.

Behind the cut, my week: how I got my phone back, some insight into my fiction critique process and the Hilarious Events of Yi Fan's Sorta-Surprise Birthday Event Thing, plus misc. rambling on zombies and rock'n'roll. Click iiiiiiiiiiiit. )

Finally, I don't remember who on my flist uploaded the version of No Children that the Mountain Goats recorded live with the audience singing due to technical difficulties, but thank you very much. You, sir/madam(probably madam), are responsible for my walking around singing "I hope you die! I hope we both die!" in a loud and cheerful manner and getting odd looks in the street.
bliumchik: (Default)
I can see this turning into another Week of Doom (like the one I STILL HAVEN'T BLOGGED ABOUT OMG) so I'm getting in a few words in between EEEEEVERYTHING happening at once so that I don't effectively disappear for a fortnight.

Cut for your flist. And your sanity )

So that's the news so far. Today I woke up with a cold and sat around on the internet all day. Tomorrow is yet another sleepover - but this one is planned! So I shall have pajamas and things! - this time with a completely different group of people, many of whom I have seen all of once since school ended. Longtime readers can hope for another episode of Jenny Quotes. Then on Tuesday I'm seeing WALL-E with yet another group, many of whom I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW, at the behest of Avi. *shrug* robots. Wednesday I'm checking out an Escrima class in the city, which should be fun (the instructor's name is Salvador! XD), and possibly meeting Stan again for an expedition to Pancakes on the Rocks. Pancakes! Then I'm seeing Cassie on Thursday, which leaves Friday and inbetweens to prepare for uni because I have a sinking feeling that Stan and Avi's conjoint birthday party is happening this weekend.

Conclusion: AUGH. If I'd known I would have done productive things last week instead of bumming around on the internet.

...who am I kidding. Hey, look, my flist has two Dr. Horrible posts in a row.

*sigh* I guess I'm just (STILL) not used to actually having a social life. Look me up in three or four years, maybe I will have learned to anticipate these things.
bliumchik: (Default)
Augh. I woke up at eight in the morning. Spontaneously (or, ish, my mum came in and fiddled with the blinds, but very briefly!) and couldn't go back to sleep! After going to sleep at two! I feel SO AWAKE RIGHT NOW OH MY GOD. THIS IS SO WEIRD.

Last night was like something out of a teen romcom, I swear. I make a point of not discussing my love life in this journal (hey there Avi, I think you've gotten more mentions since we broke up :P) but omg. It was kind of sickeningly adorable. Not punk rawk at all. This is because I am sekritly a dork.

*waves at cassie*

you guys it is NIIIINE IN THE AFTERNOON MOOOORNING. WHY IS THIS?


PS YES I AM STILL LISTENING TO THIS SONG ON REPEAT WHY DO YOU ASK? It is ALSO sickeningly adorable.
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (splode?)

via [livejournal.com profile] drjon XD



Yesterday was the Day of Randoms, it seems. Well, okay, there were two of them, not that coincidental. But it was more than usual.

I sat near the back of the bus on the way to uni. Just as I'd gotten settled in I became aware of a droning chant going on behind me. Soon I realised somebody was praying. "...the name of our lord, may it be sung, praised, laaahved, and adoooored and blessed for ever and always..."

"That's ...nice?" I thought. "She must have not had time in the morning, so she's catching up on her way to work. I wish she'd do it quieter... but it probably isn't long, so whatever."

Around the time when she got to "Lord Jesus bless each and ehhhvery single person on this bus," I realised this wasn't your regular tardy faithful. She was a large grey-haired Aussie woman with a noticeable lisp that involved many W's, and the occasional misplaced R. Her voice had a very particular rhythm in which the pitch and tone varied not a jot, the only variable was the pace and emphasis she placed on certain words. "Each and every" was a favourite, as was "adored."

In fact right about the time she started referring to us as her children and to herself as a Handmaiden of the Lord I realised that her voice had the exact proportions of the audio used in the kind of brainwashing one finds in fiction in conjunction with empty white cells and regular water torture - that monotone you can't quite filter out that drones on and on and on. And on. And on. Many politicians and televangelists use it to great effect, although obviously without the water torture. (I think.)

She would have made an effective priest, in fact, had life swung her that way - since it apparently did not (probably the woman thing) she was taking it upon herself to give her sermons away to anyone she could find. Thus she developed a cunning plan involving a moving vehicle and a congregation that really, really had to stay on this bus in order to get to work or uni on time. One woman came up to ask her to stop, but this effort was ignored with the exception of a brief aside asking God to forgive her for trying to interfere.

At first it was sort of interesting thinking about what her circumstances must be, but by the time we reached Kingsford I was bemoaning my lack of working headphones that prevented me from withdrawing into music the way the smug ipod people around me were. The ceaseless chant was really, incredibly, indescribably creepy. I texted Stan, who suggested I throw holy water at her (or regular water, whatever). As we neared the City I was briefly struck by a strong and entirely irrational fear that she was planning to blow up the bus and was merely marinating us in biblical verse before the main course, but obviously had she done so she would have lost her captive audience. I suspect that she just got off the bus and got onto another one to continue her homily upon a fresh batch of travellers. I honestly did not need to hear that many repetitions of the apostles vs. fishes story.

Thoroughly creeped out for the day I went off to my lecture, which was actually really interesting and contained basically everything I will ever need to know about Sati. Devleena Ghosh is a brilliant lecturer. I then had an hour and a half to kill before my tutorial, so I wandered down to Illustrated Man to check out tattoos. Mine will set me back a few hundred dollars, ouch. I plan to check out Inner Vision as well some time.

While I was hanging out looking at the stuff on the walls some guy started talking to me. My second random of the day was waiting for his session to start and thought I should get a tiger cub. Somewhat (much, MUCH) less creepy than random number one. He liked the Chinese character tattoos, but me, I'm like yeah. It says "vengeance." Or, you know, possibly "fried rice." Who knows! Why you would tattoo yourself with something you cannot read I don't know.

In Something Completely Different news today, I was late and accidentally walked into a math lecture. They were all like EQUATION and I was like "this is not contemporary cultures..."

I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THIS POST WAS MUCH SHORTER IN MY HEAD.

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