bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)

So yesterday I contributed to the continuing effort by The Goddamn Fishmouse and I to turn our apartment into something less resembling a deathtrap. I did this by purchasing an extension cord and attaching it to the other extension cord which, up till now, connected my computer’s powerboard to the outlet in our bathroom, thus extending the extension cord to an extension which allows us to thread it underneath the door instead of through the side, thus enabling us to close said door when we shower - and, bonus! marginally reduce our risk of electrocution.

Why, you ask, is my computer’s powerboard connected via extensive extension cordage to the power outlet in the bathroom? because (and we did not notice this before I moved in because it is the sort of thing you take for granted, having power outlets in rooms, you know) my room is COMPLETELY DEVOID OF ELECTRIC SOCKETS. It does have a thingy for plugging your TV antenna into, though. Not sure if they thought this was going to be a battery-powered television or what.

This absurd blindness to socket location practicality extends to the kitchen and is next on the un-deathtrapping to do list. We have one of those corner-counter kitchens like I always build on the Sims, where it goes Fridge, Counter, Stove, Counter, Corner Counter, Counter, Sink, with the other two sides of the rectangle being The Third Wall and The Lack Of Fourth Wall Leading To The Living Room. One powerpoint is back behind the fridge and one is over the counter next to it. Guess where the other powerpoint is?

WHY WOULD ANYBODY PUT A POWERPOINT THERE. IT IS NOT NEXT TO ANY OPTIMAL LOCATION FOR KITCHEN ITEMS THAT REQUIRE POWER. IT IS NEXT TO THE SINK.

Yes, that is an extension cable plugged into it. Because, you see, our microwave is on the corner counter, so in order to plug it in we have to stretch a cord either across the stove or across the sink. DEATHTRAAAAAP.

Eventually we’ll use some 3m hooks or duct tape or something to attach a powerboard to the wall above the stove securely enough to leave it there permanently, at which point the bizarre sink-adjacent powerpoint will cease to be in use and presumably feel very sorry for itself.

And then TODAY I tried to donate blood but was turned away for low blood pressure, following which I went and recorded a demo of a new song with Lily. We had an hour of free time at King Sound Studio as a consolation prize from their song competition that we entered. They're good dudes albeit slightly disorganised, but frankly it's the music industry and I, personally, have not a leg to stand on. I'll have the song online once they send it to us :3 my voice was a little rough, but traditionally nobody pays more attention to that than I do.
bliumchik: Item: trebuchet. Item: zombie. Sound effect: braaAAAAaains. Zombie Badminton: priceless.  (zombieminton)
Well, it's been a bit of a week. On Monday night I noticed an odd lump on the left side of my neck, just at the base of my skull. Having been sitting in front of the computer all day, I thought it must be a tension knot, despite never having had a protruding one like that. BUT THEN I felt two tiny ones right next to each other lower down on my neck, kind of like someone had surgically implanted smarties beneath my skin when I wasn't looking. Naturally I was a bit freaked out, I mean, what? LUMPS? NECK CANCER! But then I told my mum, who immediately took over ALLLLLL OF THE WORRYING DUTIES and flailed around calling all my grandparents and This One Friend Of Hers Who Is A Doctor. I promised to make a doctor's appointment forthwith, which turned out to be Wednesday, so she decided to continue to panic.

We cut to a commercial break as Maggie contemplates the ultimate destiny of... NECK LUUUUMPS! ...actually this is mostly about buses and thespians, sry )

Thing Of The Day: RIOT NRRD, a webcomic linked from Tiger Beatdown, which is SO VERY ADORABLE. I mean its name is RIOT NRRD, for fuck's sake. It basically does what it says on tghe tin :P also JOSS WHEDON PUPPYYYYY. I totally made a DW feed :P
bliumchik: batface + batpalm = batfacepalm (facepalm)
Let's get back into the swing of things with a meme! via [personal profile] nny. It can be kind of like a roll call to see who's still hangin' about even though I've sorely neglected the place.

I know very little about some of the people on my friends list. Some people I know relatively well. But here's a thought: why not take this opportunity to tell me a little something about yourself. Any old thing at all. Just so the next time I see your name I can say: "Ah, there's so and so...she likes office supplies." I'd love it if every single person who friended me would do this. (Yes, even you people who I know really well.) Then post this in your own journal. In return, ask me anything you'd like to know about me and I'll give you an answer.

In other news, I just checked my timetable for the upcoming semester and swore heavily. I only have one class for the rest of the year, due to some beaurocratic snafus and that one class I failed in first year. And I've had a recurring problem with everything happening on Wednesdays - my escrima class, Writer's Society meetings, random events people feel like having midweek for whatever reason... whatever. I get overbooked, I overcommit, I decide it's totally plausible to be in the city at one and back in maroubra at three and in kensington at six and back in the city at eight, I have misadventures.

Guess when the one class I have next semester is scheduled? ARGH.
bliumchik: (hat)
I did that thing again. The thing where I don't post for ridiculous lengths of time because a post about some big event is just a-sittin' there in my draft box, steadily receding into the past. I know, we're all shocked.

So I really did spend most of that month procrastinating. I didn't even get much further in Portal, because I was hit by that curious mental tic whereby doing anything substantial is Admitting I Am Not Doing Work. Unlike, say... compulsively refreshing twitter and playing solitaire.

Yup.

But I finally handed everything in, not too late if you don't count extensions, and only slightly under all the given word-counts. Probably a lot of it was a bit shit, but oh well. I got at least one decent poem out of the Culture & Poetics final, a decent novel opening that I can hammer into better shape later (and the realisation that HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS NOVELS ARE LONG), and I had fun writing about tiny communists for Utopias. The stress was probably good for me! Or something.

My final extension ran out oh... a couple of hours before my volunteering gig at Supanova began. So that was good timing! I even managed to get my hair properly bleached for the first time on the way (which: holy burning sensation, Batman!) and which was handy for my Corinthian costume, seen here albeit not in sufficient detail to see the awesomeness of the facepaint on my eyelids. It was generally agreed to be a great outfit! Also, the sunglasses made me feel extremely badass standing next to queues with my arms folded and telling people when they can go forward and when they are in danger of turning into a snarling mob. That was handy because on Saturday morning I got commandeered for that particular duty at the Supanova Store just after doing my make-up but before getting a) my badge and official shift-times and b) breakfast. This is because a shitload more people showed up than expected and allllll of them wanted Lou Ferrigno autographs. Well, no, all the scruffy middle-aged men wanted Lou Ferrigno autographs, everybody else wanted Eliza Dushku autographs. We were so swamped that the coordinators couldn't find anyone to relieve me for another ~three hours (by which time McDonalds were no longer serving breakfast). I felt very put-out about this until I discovered that Jenn, Mish and Nat were about three times as swamped at the photobooth, because everyone and their mum wanted a photo with Eliza or Summer Glau.

Sydney Supanova is held in a big dome thing out in Olympic Park. I camped out at Al's place because a) he actually lives on a train line which significantly reduced my travel time and b) the man is some sort of crazy morning person and was pretty much certain to ensure I was going to be awake by seven. (The whole relationship thing is going well, by the way!) Somehow I still managed to be late on Saturday morning though (hence the lack of breakfast). That is because trains and me? We are not friends. We are not even frenemies, we are more like a rickety wooden bridge over a canyon, and a semi-trailer. I should probably put the rest of this story behind a cut, huh? Ahhh, the return of my epically long posts :D

TRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINS sorry, no, I mean FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAILS no wait, excuse me, this is so embarrassing, EXPLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINS fuckit )
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: (quantum)
Today was a good day for the nervous system! Low pain levels, a few spots of numbness but Doc Arkady warned for that - I'll give him a buzz if it's worse tomorrow, but it shouldn't be doing anything horrible. Not so much luck on the skeletal front, no less than seven joints came loose and had to be popped back into place - by number four my dad was grimacing harder than I was! It does look worse than it feels, I'm told 65% of a general population sample will usually experience nausea at the sight of a musculomechanical connection point. No problem with one or the other, or even the diagrams, usually. Only the juxtaposition in the flesh, so to speak.

Of course that can't be a problem for me.

I found some more hair and peelings on my pillow this morning - it looks like the entire right side is rejecting the skin grafts... or rather the skin's rejected me, and honestly I'd feel lonely too if I was half a scalp with steel where my bone foundation ought to be. I suppose I ought to get rid of the other side's worth, too, but on the other hand a single pigtail might look nice. Sort of gives a softer touch. Not that anyone's touching it, for all that matters. CallMeEvelyn keeps telling me to write down all my, you know, feelings, along with the physical crap, but I say it's only a matter of time before they replace those with motor oil as well, and what's the point. But fine: ventures outside today - one (milk went bad early. Who needs the calcium anyway, am I right?) Recoils - nine and a half (and I'm being generous, but she checked herself and smiled, so fuck it). Outright hate-speech: three. Flirting and/or plain comeons: nil, again. What the hell did the goddamn shrink bother warning me about mech-perverts for if none of them hang around here, that's what I want to know. Oh, and the fucking protestors are back, because some fucker insisted on full fucking media disclosure and letting David fucking Koschie interview the fucking Cute Ones, isn't that right, DaveAndAngela? FUCK YOU. I said boo to one of them, he nearly fainted. Mankind For Man indeed, more like Mankind For Fucking Wusses, right?

Anyway, how're y'all doing out there? Did someone get out to John's place and rescue him from the Dullest Hospice Worker In Existence? I know the guy can't walk or talk but when she's around, who'd wanna? Also Fi!! You never posted about Cute Comic Book Store Guy!! Cough it up, dammit, some of us are living vicariously here!
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (splode?)
Oh my god it is so fucking hot I swear argh. I want ten million showers, stat. There are bugs EVERYWHERE. The other day a big black spider was just a-sittin' on one of my towels on the line, you know, just chillin' like. I shook it out and it just didn't move. So obviously I panicked and let my dad finish taking in the towels. I stuck electrical tape on a hole in our flyscreen but there were already three fat flies in the kitchen and I'm just not as handy with a slipper as I used to be. FUCK YOU SUMMMERRRRR.

On W- ...oh, yesterday (fuck I'm losing track of time again) I trekked out Parramatta-wise to Lily's house for to make some jam. It was MAD FUCKING HOT, have I mentioned this? It was like a pizza oven, the walk back to hers from the station was hellish. Heat radiating from the asphalt, I half expected PLUUUMES OF FLAAAAME in dramatic fashion to burst forth from the scenery. And then Lily's house was UP A DRIVEWAY FFS. But finally we got inside and I just lay right down on the cool tiles and demanded ice cubes. Then I made friends with her cat (big-boned fucker that it is, large cat is LARGE, mate) and squee'd over her hilarious electric guitar. She explained that she thought the red was boring so she covered it in stickers and then set it on fire, but it wouldn't burn, so she just stuck more stickers on. Said stickers bore the visages of such wicked items as ANTHRAX, Cthulu, Pikachu, badass flame designs and Hello Kitty.

Anyway we did some recording on a little device whose inner workings are beyond my understanding, and Lily also insisted on recording our practice runs because she felt like she was "losing a part of her" when we got the first go right and it wasn't on tape (metaphorically speaking as the Device was pour la mp3). I pointed out that you're not really a real musician unless you can, y'know, duplicate your awesome before successive crowds on different occasions, but there you have it, we now have various mp3's of two songs, an argument and some fucking around with E minor and a tumbleweed solo.

Then it was time for me to head off to a comedy show entitled The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Abridged), which styled itself to be The Bard Without The Boring Bits (although I've gotta admit they may have taken out Shakespeare's boring bits but they added a couple of their own). I did not have to make the return journey in the afternoon's wretched heat but only because it was raining. I ate some ramen (Lily has a sort of collection) and borrowed an umbrella (and three dollars because I had forgotten to get money out and used up the last of my change getting there). Then I put on my make-up on the train, because I woke up at one pm and had to run to get to Lily's in time to not just have to turn around and leave again. I was incidentally a trifle overdressed as all my pants were in the wash, and somehow I don't have any skirts that go with anything that doesn't end up looking fancy, unless they're really casual and only really suitable for the beach. IDK! I don't wear skirts that often! I don't know how to do it!

The show was actually pretty funny but I don't think it was worth $55, really. I mean there is hilarious comedy, there is my high school drama class, and there is eight minutes of a bloke in a dress pretending to vomit on people, and it is closer to one than the other if you know what I mean. However the second half, which largely consisted of Hamlet, was pretty awesome. I think my favourite bit was Hamlet, Again, Really Really Fast, Backwards. In sum, I loled. Then we stood around outside arguing over where to go next. Liza was telephonically in favour of a Sydney Festival performance by a Russian band called Volgograd, Gleb was for waiting for Liza to actually show up, Stan was for going home and entertaining the possibility of going to work in the morning, Gathy took initiative and wandered off to see a street piano with Brinton. I waved my arms around a bit and looked put upon. Finally we reached some sort of consensus and began to move vaguely in the general direction of the carpark.

Volgograd, who were playing in something called the Famous Spiegeltent, although what it is famous for and why it is Spiegel I wouldn't have a clue, were tolerably amusing. Me, Sasha, Liza and Val played "spot the recycled Russian tune." (I also secretly played "what does Sasha's facial expression mean." I am not very good at that game, I always think he is pissed off when actually he is thinking about lunch, or something.) The singer sounded like my grandad after a couple of vodka shots. The band had one of those giant triangular ukelele things, what are they called? Also an accordion and a couple of trombones. A very drunk lady asked me to mind her drink, which was in one of those flute glasses. Flustered, I said "no" - whereupon she got confused and said "I can't leave it here?"

"Well, you can, but I'm not going to like, be responsible for-" I tried. "I mean I'm not going to DO anything to it-"

"You might!" she said cheerfully. "I don't know you very well!"

Then she wandered off. I shrugged, everyone else laughed at me. After a while we dispersed, by which I mean Gathy made vague noises about going home and disappeared in a puff of smoke, and all the Maroubra bus people plus Brinton wandered towards the bus stop, leaving Gleb and Liza to presumably do couple-y things, such as they could manage in a large German-themed tent full of drunken Russians and Aussies.

Which finished off the night with me, Sasha, Val and Brinton sitting at a bus stop for half an hour at two in the morning, daydreaming about sandwiches, watching Boston Legal on Brinton's laptop, and chatting to a random wasted Irish hippy who looked at the laptop and cheerfully announced that technology confused him and he would rather live in a field with a stick and a pig.

*jazz hands*
bliumchik: Dr. Horrible laughs evilly (squee)
Oh fuck my back is killing me. Here is the epic tale, y'all!

I left the house all behatted and eyelinertastic, with special accessory: Soapy the rubber snake. I used him as a hatband. More for my benefit than for the all of three people who might notice and get it. I giggled, okay? ... ....GET THIS MOTHERFUCKING SNAKE OFF MY MOTHERFUCKING HAT. ANYWAY. The sky was still grey so I looked for an umbrella on my way out but my house was sadly brollyless. I therefore decided to buy one on my way there. I found a little black one for fifteen bucks at central station - not, alas, little enough, because it didn't fit into my bag. I think you all know what happened next. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I believe I have set the world record for briefest ownership of an umbrella - it got on that train with me and never left. RIP may it go to a good home ETC.

Once I got off the train it was a simple matter of playing follow-the-scene-kid until Acer Arena came into view. There I swiftly entered through the wrong door, was forced to throw away my water bottle (such a scam, make you buy things inside), went back out those doors and around the stadium, got stopped and told my bag was too big, took a slight detour via coat-check where I realised that since I wasn't taking my bag IN I could have kept my water for AFTER instead of chucking it away (SCAM SCAMMITY SCAM SCAM) but alas! Twas too late. I went straight into the General Admission Rear Standing area, confirming that I was an idiot and should have gotten pit tickets - or possibly seated ones. Visibility was not brilliant. I was however early enough to claim a spot behind a very short girl who soon moved, so I was at the barrier for most of Cobra and TAI. This meant I had something to lean on and I could sit down on the floor between sets, at least until it got more crowded. I then had the following dilemma: if I moved from my spot to go stretch my legs or sit down properly, it was highly unlikely that I'd get back there. So I stayed throughout the Aussie opening act, Chain Gang (Killer legs on that lead singer, was she even wearing pants? WHO KNOWS! Drummer girl definitely wasn't wearing a top. Although it must get pretty hot up there - if I drummed I'd do it in a bikini too), Cobra Starship and The Academy Is... before finally giving in during the pre-Panic break and going for a seat and the merch booth.

Both our reptilian friends and their partners in hilarity were awesome and indulged in some microphone swinging lulz. At one point William actually picked up the microphone stand by the base and tossed it from hand to hand for no readily apparent reason. Speaking of William, he came out during Cobra's set for Snakes On A Plane (with Sisky for the rap-verse) and - you know what, I am going to stop here and just say. Is there much hermaphrodite!William fic? Aside from that Big Bang fic where he changes gender occasionally and nobody really notices. Because for fuck's sake is that guy male or female? WHO KNOWS! The eye just constantly trips up on that figure and goes "Uh... is there seriously a dick inside those tiny, tiny jeans? Seriously? SERIOUSLY!?" Of course the rest of the body then replies "but you'd do hi- h- it anyway, right?" Whatever, it is news to nobody that William Beckett's gender classification is "hot" but it's really striking in person.

Other opening antics: Gabe was very affectionate towards Ryland and Vicky-T onstage. Ryland gave us some hot boy-on-guitar action (seriously that was some extremely rhythmic thrusting he had going there). Cobra's songs are totally better live than they are on record. William walked into the crowd right at the end of TAI's set. He also made mention of Michael Chislett's aussie heritage, of course. I felt like a complete tool doing the Fangs Up sign during Cobra's set but I did it anyway. When Siska came out with Cobra for Snakes On A Plane I giggled so hard at his stature. Flanked by Gabe and William he was like a leetle doll - then he walked off past Vicky, who is SLIGHTLY taller than him - and also SLIGHTLY FEMALE. I was also reminded how much I really like Santi - I was just not a fan of TAI's first album, but they have improved in leaps and bounds since then.

In the break before Cobra and TAI I turned around and leaned back on the barrier to try and console my loudly protesting back a little, even though this meant constant eyecontact or obvious eyecontact avoidance with the people behind me. I don't know why, but I can walk for hours without a back complaint, yet standing still for thirty minutes has the union out with picketlines and marching bands. My posture must be really really fucked or something. Anyway by the end of TAI's set I was ready to maim so I gave up my awesome barrier-side spot and wandered out to sit in an actual chair and get merch. Also I heard on a comm that William had a tendency to come out and be gawked at for a bit around that point in the evening. This was confirmed, but I didn't bother to gawk because he was completely blocked from view by fans and I was in line for merch - cost-benefit analysis was WAY unbalanced. I got a black Cobra Starship T-shirt, incidentally.

I returned with shirt in hand to find the crowd much thicker at the barrier. I eventually found a place where I could see over shoulders (edging between some guy and a girl who kept elbowing me) and eventually the girls in front of me left (in a bit of a hurry - hope they were okay) so I ended up just behind a bunch of kids about ten-twelve and therefore with the same visibility I had before - only nothing to lean on. I ended up sort of shifting in place to the music constantly even when the crowd around me were not dancing because it was just less painful.

Panic finally came on with their massive floral backdrop - the animations on the screen were pretty clever, very Yellow Submarine (I know for a fact that everybody groans at a Beatles comparison by this point, but that is what they reminded me of). [livejournal.com profile] snarkaddict said I should text her about Spencer's faaace but even if our mobiles had not mysteriously failed to communicate Spencer's faaaace and most of the rest of him was completely invisible from where I was standing - all I got was the dynamics. "Yes, yes, I can definitely tell he's moving his arms. In rhythm even! How exciting!" I could also tell Jon Walker was very happy to be there, he was practically jumping up and down for the first song. At one point Brendon tried his hand at a little screaming - it was sort of hilarious. Just imagine that guy in a punk band oh god. Ryan rambles a bit onstage, heh. During Folkin Around he swapped places with Jon because of technical difficulties with a tambourine.

They played most of the new stuff - not when The Day Met The Night or From A Mountain, but the rest. Also a good deal of the first album, reminding me how much I liked it in the first place - I haven't listened to it properly in ages. Laced. With. Nitroglycerin! Hee. For an encore Brendon came out with a guitar and played Time to Dance almost-acoustic with audience participation instead of the keyboard riff, then the others came back on and they finished with Mad As Rabbits. Brendon said this was his favourite show ever - I bet he says that to all the audiences ;) and I think he was kind of amused by the indiscriminate screaming - they kept answering him by squealing at the top of their voices regardless what he was actually trying to say, lol.

When I got out I had to stand in line outside to get my bag and coat back - it was freezing! It was also raining slightly but my hat was useful and I walked briskly to the train station, whistling the "danana hey hey goodbye" theme they worked into Mad As Rabbits. By the time I got off the train it was really pouring down - but I was in luck! It turned out that, bereft of umbrellas as my house had appeared, this was partly because one was hiding in my very bag. Slightly dodgy one, of course, but it kept the worst off for the walk to the bus stop. I cursed all the way for my unnecessary (and brief ;_;) umbrella purchase.

All in all good times but I don't ever want to go to a concert without company again - it's just not as much fun. I should have tried harder to find someone to go with. Also, friends could hold places in the crowd while I wrestled my back into submission. I'm going to be sore tomorrow, oh. I'd better go to sleep, anyway, it's early.
bliumchik: Mommy, I dropped my giant cowsicle!  :( (Um.)
I appear to have spontaneously developed a tendency to notice matching chord progressions. The Dresden Dolls use one sequence that's the same as a Brand New song, and one that I think matches an MCR song. These thoughts just randomly occurred to me while listening to them. I still can't tell what the chords actually ARE though. Oh well! Progress!

What's up with all the spam that's gotten me lately? Bots keep popping up on my msn to go A/S/L and link me to "webcam sites" and complete randoms who are probably sockpuppets keep inviting me to some application on facebook AND some fucker left a comment on my lastfm page with a tinyurl in it supposedly for Bright Eyes ringtones (yeah, right). FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE, OH MY GOD.

In other news, my dethflu still sucks.
bliumchik: (Default)
Oh man, why don't I have more Vampire Weekend music? They did a cover of Exit Music (For A Film)! That's awesome! Speaking of music, sometimes misheard lyrics are cooler than the real ones. I speak specifically of Panic At The Disco. I mean yes, "like moths upon old scarves" does make more sense in context than "like mouths upon old scars" but... *sigh*

So, my Rethinking Culture tutor thinks my first assignment was absolutely wonderful except for that little thing where he can't mark it higher than a Pass because there were no references. OOPS. He actually drew a sadface on my eval! No lie! It says "you've _spoiled_ an otherwise terrific piece of work :-(" at the end. It also contains the phrase "But.. but... only one inclusion of cultural studies material?" I can just see him making a sad puppy dog face at my essay. ROFL.

Today was sort of made of fail in general. The temperature plummeted at some point while I was visiting my grandparents on Monday, because when I walked back to the bus stop I was shivering. I also woke up a few times in the night because I was FUCKING FREEZING, and then again at 7:15 because I forgot to reset my alarm clock from yesterday's morning wake up call. Then I naturally fell asleep again until TWENTY PAST NOON at which point I rolled out of bed going SHIT SHIT SHIT ONE PM CLASS.

I figured I could make it if I got the twelve thirty bus, which left no time for breakfast, so I'd drop by Oporto's along the was to take advantage of their convenient All Day Breakfast. alas! Twas not to be, for they have taped over the "all day" on the sign with a sticker that says "until eleven am." THANKS FOR NOTHING, DELICIOUS PORTUGESE CHICKEN MAKERS. I ended up getting a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich from the crappy little cafe at the bus stop. It's not actually crappy in the traditional sense, it's actually quite nice looking with like focacias and stuff, but apparently they do not understand the meaning of "sandwich." In my experience a sandwich generally has two pieces of bread on either side of the filling, for ease of one-handed eating on public transport. Also so that the cheese doesn't STICK TO THE PAPER BAG, FUCKERS. It wasn't even that good.

Anyway, I missed half the lecture. Sad, it was on subcultures. I felt very awkward in tutorial because I had many opinions I couldn't quite put words to. I didn't know the topic until I got there and hadn't had time to think about it. I wanted to mention fandom, but then I was kind of like "...how the hell do I explain this? Nobody here will have any clue what I'm talking about without like, a whole essay of background." In the end I just said my internet niche was kind of a confluence between the geek subculture and the pop-punk/emo subculture. Which was a bit simplistic but. Whatever. Maybe I'll write my final essay on this topic, if it still bugs me.
bliumchik: baffled cat is baffled (OMGWTF)
So, The Mars Volta. Does anyone here actually understand their lyrics? I mean, they sound great, sure, but. You know, at least "televators" and "capulary" could conceivably be derived from real words. What the fuck is a manupod?



Oops. I thought it was funny. In a, you know, morbid and cynical sort of way. Irony!



So you know that bandom superhero AU I wasn't writing? Um. Maybe I did. A little. More like speculation. Still to come, Mikeyway is psychic and Frank blows shit up.



Every so often I do a clean-out of my wardrobe, and every time it's the same deal.

First it's the sorting process. "Keep, keep, Salvo's, keep, what the fuck why do I even own this, keep, keep, um... fine, it might come in handy, keep, Salvo's, ...this isn't even mine, Salvo's, keep, keep, dusters, keep... yay done! I can has space!"

Then I look around my room and realise it looks like Milan exploded, so I bug my dad till he finds me some large plastic bags to dump the unwanted things in, and dump the rest in my wardrobe "to sort and hang later," for a given value of "later" that actually means "never."

Next, I dump the bags outside with a pre-emptive announcement that yes, I am absolutely sure, mum, that I will never wear anything in the bags, mum, for whatever reasons, and I know this because they're my clothes, mum.

And finally, my mother comes in with a dress and a pair of jeans saying "But this is so nice! I bought you this six years ago! I bought this for myself but misjudged the size so I gave it to you! Did you try this on? I'm sure we can take it in. You need these!"
bliumchik: Mommy, I dropped my giant cowsicle!  :( (Um.)
I just got home from a faintly blurry school day, only to discover that my whipped cream is no longer whipped. A quick squiz at the ingredients list1 will reveal that it was only nominally cream in the first place, so by rights the whole thing should just cancel itself out. Instead, what we get is sort of... creamy... drizzle. Still good for pie! And crumble. And pudding. Speaking of pudding, one of the myriad of tiny things that stop me short and wave leetle "SCHOOL. IT SHALL BE OVER. FOREVAR" flags at me2: the wednesday market at Fox Studios. I usually wander over in my free periods to snaffle free samples of cheese and mayonnaise and weird sort of not-crackers. The thing I most often actually buy is sticky date pudding3, and I'm clearly a regular customer because the girl at the counter always smiles at me and gives me discounts. This feels odd, and yesterday it occurred to me that after the ninth of November I will have no reason to be hanging around there on a Wednesday. Sic transit... pudding.

Speaking of school, our principal (like my mother) works in mysterious ways. Today I was at the office, getting a heatpack (I told you it was a blurry day) when she strode into the room, brandishing a piece of fancy paper.

"I need an instant audience!" she proclaimed. I clutched my pain relief and edged away.

"That means you too!" Dr Vazza cried.

"..." I said. She proceeded to present some kind of impromptu award to someone called Kerry. I resumed my edging, but she whirled around and pointed at me.

"Where are you going?!" she demanded. "Clap!"

I clapped. We hear and obey, O Vazza.

Tuesday night half my drama class went to see The Story Of The Miracles At Cookie's Table, by Wesley Enoch and awesome. I failed at buses4 on the way there, quite a lot. For a while I distracted myself from my aching shins (for some reason, that's where it hurts when I walk too fast...) by giggling at the phrase "Public Transport Error: Please Reboot Universe" but it could only provide so much amusement and I was still cranky when I finally got there, amazingly on time. The Doctor Who fans among us were trying to explain the concept of the creatures that turn to stone when you look at them. The rest of us didn't quite get it at first until we realised that you can't blink or they'll get you oh my god. Jaws actually dropped! (I think Evelyn will have nightmares.) Then I stuttered a lot, we got front row seats (and nearly impaled by strategically flung forks) and a good time was had by all.

In lulz today, this squirl is pissed, by which I mean fucked, by which I mean on the lam, on a bender and off it's fuzzy little face on pumpkin wine. WIN.



1How exactly does one invert syrup?
2Like a meeting discussing Year Twelve 007 Tshirts, or trying to make a study timetable (go on, laugh) and realising that in two months I won't have any exams to study for.
3It's really, really nice. And the sauce is just brilliant, and, guh. Alas, they don't sell individual portions anymore (well, she made me an exception once because she'd already split a double for a friend of hers) so I have to convince someone to share one with me. Luckily I have lately converted Chloe to the Joys Of Pudding.
4So what else is new, I know, I know.
bliumchik: (rage)
...was a cranky day. Now those of you who know me are aware that I am almost supernaturally good-natured, even my temper tantrums are laughable. So my cranky days consist mostly of stomping around, pouting, snapping my fingers and sometimes decorously throwing soft things at other soft things, while loudly proclaiming that the entire universe fails at everything.

Yesterday my mother failed at getting dressed at all before coming to wake me up, BEFORE ELEVEN mind you, to tell me that I was meeting great aunt Nadia in the city in an hour or two to take some jackets to be altered, a development of which I had not previously been aware. So that didn't set the day up very nicely. Then my glasses mysteriously failed to show up, so I had to squint my way to said meeting while carrying a paper carry-bag which completely and utterly failed at being easy to actually, yaknow, carry... thanks to those rope handles that invariably dig into anything you suspend them by, be it the shoulder, elbow or fingers.

By the time I met my aunt, I'd gone right through "wah everything fails" and temporarily come out on the side of "lol everything fails" - I was then very amused to meet a friend of Nadia's and her grand-daughter who had... very visibly failed at not being dressed by elderly female relatives. I mean, poor girl, nobody deserves huge purple sequinned hand-me-downs. I started sliding back down sometime during my aunts pitiful haggling with the seamstress ("cheap, yes?" "normal price" "okay but... cheap?") which inevitably failed, although if she's as good as my aunt says it's worth the price.

Then the friend failed at turning up to meet Nadia for lunch despite arranging a time and place not fifteen minutes ago, so I convinced her to buy me crepes with strawberry jam. These did not fail, except for being tiny. Then my mum showed up and engaged Nadia in spirited conversation about how I should eat more fruit. I hinted that I'd kind of like to get home, since I had actually planned to.. you know, do things today.

"But there's a bookstore right there!" Mum coaxed. Why don't you go spend that twenty I gave you?"

Alas, I am easily persuaded. The store's fantasy/sf section failed at sensible layout, and then my mum wandered in, saw the book I was looking at and told me to just read it in the store instead of spending money. Mmm, tasty mixed messages. So I went "yeah what the hell" and sat there reading the book until a staff member politely informed me that I was blocking the shelves and they kinda had tables over there.

I had indeed failed to notice the tables neatly hidden behind the culinary shelves, so I thanked her and went to sit there and finish reading Colony by Rob Grant, who doesn't fail at anything at all, fond as he is of the deus ex machina. But I still think Incompetence is the funniest book he's ever written, and possibly the funniest book anyone has ever written.

While there I think I incidentally failed at noticing that a guy was trying to start a conversation until he'd already left. Then I failed at city navigation, not braining the dude on the bus next to me with my oversized and inconvenient bag, previously full of clothes, and doing any work for the rest of the day.

Let's just say that by the time my mum got home and dragged me to the gym only to find that pilates had been cancelled, I wasn't in a very good mood AT ALL. In fact, if I'd been an evil mastermind with access to a doomsday machine I would even now have Cyclops and the team manacled to my dungeon wall (in their skintight outfits... Professor X you old pervert) as I cackle manically and prepare to push the big red button OF DETH. I would then be tackled by Wolverine, who my henchmen had left for dead earlier in the night (never a good idea). Because who doesn't enjoy being tackled by Wolverine?

What was I saying? Right. Cranky. Rrr.

Profile

bliumchik: (Default)
Captain Oblivious

October 2014

S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
12131415161718
19 202122232425
262728293031 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 24th, 2017 05:10 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios