bliumchik: (nothing sus)

i mean i was already twenty three on friday but now i have ~celebrated~ it so it’s all official and stuff!

I celebrated so hard that I woke up with enough alcohol in my system to forget that taking codeine-fortified painkillers with alcohol in your system is a really bad idea! And then I went woooeeeooo and sat next to a bowl for about half an hour just in case. But now I am past most of the nausea (and it is ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY TYPICAL of me to be nauseous in the standard hangover space for reasons completely unrelated to hangovers) and all that is left is a bit of swimmy vision and wheeee.

I had a pretty great day yesterday. Al and I had brunch with both our parentses and it was minimally embarrassing! My dad gave me a skull-shaped shotglass & a t-shirt with a screenprint involving a Russian che guevara joke, and my mum gave me yet another unnecessary purse, a CD called “Land of The Powerful Owl”, a cushion and a dinky pearl necklace. This tells you everything you need to know about my family. Al’s mum knitted me a beanie. If I marry this guy I forsee a future of owning many, many beanies.

In the evening we went down to the Summer Hill Hotel. It turned out to have some minor space issues, but after a while most of the other patrons cleared out because the footy was over, so we could spread out again. At one point a random drunk older woman sat down at our table, knocking over someone’s drink, because we were in front of the TV. After a while we asked her to move so we could fit all my guests at the table, at which point she glared daggers at us from the next one for a while. Anyway, I caught up with a bunch of great people, although I think may have neglected Stan and his new girlfriend for a while there, because she embarked upon an ambitious construction project using leftover chips and aioli.

My first three and a half drinks managed to leave me feeling relaxed but otherwise soberish, and then someone bought me a double and about four sips into it my face started feeling numb. Cumulative effects of alcohol! But anyway, I don’t remember saying anything embarrassing, or at least anything I felt embarrassed about saying, so I’m going to call it a win. It really should have occurred to me that I couldn’t metabolise all that overnight though. Now I’m going to go see what Land of the Powerful Owl is all about, I imagine a codeine high can only help.

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: (quantum)
I dreamed I was sitting with the Writers’ Society exec, the old group of which I am the last one still involved in the Society, at a weirdly open-plan sort of Clubs Day.

Several tables to our right, another, younger society was resolving a dispute primarily by ganging up on the disagreeing member and making her cry. I started ranting about this, causing a few heads to turn when my “DOING IT WRONG” echoed across the room. Eventually the group dispersed, their ringleader locking eyes with me as she walked past us, and I went over to the circle of chairs they left, where the girl was silently crying. She had a long blonde ponytail.

“Boy, have I been there,” I said to her, choking up with sympathy tears, and then had to get up to fetch tissues. We shared a laugh-cry moment, and then for some reason I decided to share a Greek myth with her.

“I mean, Heliotrope,” I said, “was having the worst day ever. Not only did she find out her husband was fucking a rabbit, but she literally turned into a painting.”

(At this point my dream treated me to a graphic vision of Heliotrope’s skin grafting onto the painting’s canvas as it absorbed her.)

“But let me tell you something,” I continued. “Heliotrope won.”

But before I could explain how Heliotrope won, my mum came in and woke me up (for the LAST TIME, which makes it fitting that it was absolutely classic – she told me last night when she expected me to be awake, I set my alarm for that time, and then she came in 40 mins earlier than my alarm to “fix” something about my room that wasn’t bothering me and opened the curtains so I couldn’t get back to sleep.)

Here’s the problem: there’s no such myth. The word heliotrope comes from a Greek story about a nymph who was in unrequited love with the sun-god Helios, and thereby turned into a flower whose face always turns toward the sun. This contains the right elements from my dream, of the lover forsaking you for someone else and of turning into something nonsentient, but a) there’s no rabbits or paintings and b) she doesn’t Win. Unless you call having a 19th century German guy name a scientific instrument after you winning.

So help me out, internet – tell me the rest of the story. If your husband was fucking a rabbit and the Gods turned you into a painting, how would you Win?
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
Well, my two-week flood of assessment deadlines is over! Now I have at least three weeks before the next one starts, and I am naturally going to use them to procrastinate.

In TOTALLY UNRELATED NEWS, Portal is free from Steam for another week or so :D

...you guys, I get motion sickness from this game. And it's awesome. I do not even.

So anyway, since handing in my final assignment last Friday I've been tumbling and shooting portals at things and vegging out on the internet, woo! This sluggish state has been partly in response to the freedom from all that writing about socialists and french philosophers and moths, and partly in order to recover from Friday itself, which was approximately 36 hours long. (PS: I totally started this post on Tuesday :P oops!)

cut for length of the recount and a bunch of random tangents and an aside on the topic of good-touch/bad-touch and uh I got a little carried away...? )
bliumchik: Item: trebuchet. Item: zombie. Sound effect: braaAAAAaains. Zombie Badminton: priceless.  (zombieminton)
So last week I went out for some delicious eurasian food at Apandim Uighur with some of my Russian friends (and Sam. She is an honorary Russian, Liza once put her brother in a cage.) It was fun! I've written about the restaurant before, some of my parents' friends know the owners so we've been there for anniversary parties and the like, but this was my first time going with friends. The ordering process, it was so much simpler! The five of us threw in suggestions, and then Liza conferred with a waitress to check various spice levels before ordering two plates of rice, one plate of noodles, one of dumplings, THREE PLATES OF MEAT SKEWERS and a salad.

"One salad?" I asked, smirking.

"Fine, two salads," said Liza. "And naan!"

We later ended up ordering an extra plate of rice because we'd nearly finished it by the time the meat arrived (the rice was sticky, slightly sweet and contained soft bits of carrot, we basically just tipped it onto our plates and hoovered it down). Basically I am saying we ate a lot and it was awesome. I only managed two skewers of meat myself because I had filled up on delicious noodles and whatnot by the time they finally brought them out, but it was okay, there were two dudes at our table and they made up for me.

...and then we went for ice cream, because we are reckless fools XD

Well, I shared a crepe with Toly, because we both recognised that we were overdoing it just slightly :P I felt like I was going to explode. EXPLODE. Like a meat pinata. Enjoy that mental image, guys.

Anyway, the point of all that is that something we talked about as we were sitting in French Riviera nursing our wholly extraneous desserts has born fruit today. But have patience! I shall come to it.

I delighted Sam and Toly with the pertinent plot points of a genuinely fuckin' awesome movie I recently watched, Guitar Wolf: Wild Zero (Aliens! Transsexuals! Zombie make-outs! Rock'n'roll! Lightning guitar pick shurikens! ACE! DO IT!) with the result that I am now dedicated to arranging a viewing party at some point in the future! (Seriously guys, I love this thing with completely insufficient irony, [livejournal.com profile] jk_rockin's hunch that it was relevant to my interests was COMPLETELY ON THE MONEY.)

Then we somehow ended up talking about porn, possibly traumatising some random strangers sitting at the next table (I tend to forget that a phrase like "but it was just fifteen minutes of some guy jerking off in an elevator" is earmarked for the INSIDE voice), and THEN we got to talking about messy rooms (NO CAUSAL RELATIONSHIP) (I SINCERELY HOPE) and the upshot of all this is that today Liza came over and helped me clean my room.

There will be before and after photos eventually, right now it is not finished (there was TOO MUCH STUFF, she's going to have to come back another time) (she has threatened to make that time eight am tomorrow morning but I call bullshit, she will not be awake :P) but YOU GUYS. I HAVE THROWN AWAY SO MUCH PAPER, OH MY GOD.

There is SPACE IN MY DRAWERS. I HAVE SPACIOUS DRAWERS, AS THE MILKMAID SAID TO THE STABLEBOY. IT IS AMAZING.

Why was I keeping trigonometry exams from 2004? WHO KNOWS! What was the original purpose of that one weird plastic thing? WHO CARES! Why do I have a picture of myself lurking awkwardly in the background of a photo with Cathy Freeman? WHAAARGAAARBL! Full story once the job is finished, I just wanted to squee about it and somehow ended up writing about delicious noodles and shouty rock stars until two thirty in the morning. As you do.
bliumchik: Dr. Horrible laughs evilly (mine is an evil laugh)
I'm at Mel's, slightly drunk. I'm showing people music videos and traumatising her little sister with Ebichu (because she has a little hamster doll that resembles it. I have been picking it up and shouting UNMENTIONABLE PANTIES! YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!) and did you know her parents blutack little motivational lists to their walls. It's sort of creepy.

Observe: a sample. Note the sickening platitudes, mild repetition issues and passive-aggressive circling of "change your habits."

Anyway so we decided to replace that one with a SLIGHTLY ALTERED VERSION and see how long it will take them to notice. It runs thusly:

 Accept your limitations – don’t diet.
 Never trust hamsters.
 Learn to be calm – hit things with sticks.
 Your anorexia is totally justified.
 Don’t let your sister’s friends use your facebook account.
 Live joyfully – DRINK MOAR.
 Forget your mistakes – SEE ABOVE.
 Be individual – get a tattoo.
 Have a mind of your own – the Borg is overrated.
 Learn the healing power of abstinence.
 Concentrate on loving cake and vodka.
 Accept the other fucker’s issues.
 Giving will make you smug.
 Love Alice – she is your overlord.
 Don’t worry about the things you can blame on your sister.
 Forgive others – they are only figments of your imagination.
 Be a winner – cheat massively!

I think it will IMPROVE MELISSA'S LIFE.
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)
Today I googled myself and made the SHOCKING DISCOVERY that I am not the only Captain Oblivious on the internet! The more well-known one is Rob McDonagh, who doesn't sound all that oblivious to me! *pouts*

This makes me sad. I liked that nickname. I even made an urban dictionary entry for it. And the whole reason I googled it was because [personal profile] frostickle claimed I was contagious :P so I decided he would be my sidekick, Awkward Lad.

*shakes fist* MCDONAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

Anyway, the upshot of all that is I need a new Internet Moniker. Suggestions?

aten't ded

Nov. 25th, 2009 01:09 am
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)
Augh, that was a week. DONE. SO DONE. My planned Week Full Of Stuff finished and then there was more stuff. I was just at Stan's farewell party because he is my bff and he is fleeing the country to be a Microsoft corporate whore for the summer, but THAT WAS THE LAST THING. from now on I am just going to vegetate. VEGETATE. VEG-E-TATE.

VEGETATE! VEGETATE!

*cough* hey internets. Have some Things Wot I Found.

Cut for images. Bands, gloves, shoes, The Shat )
bliumchik: Dr. Horrible laughs evilly (squee)
Wicked. You guys. WICKED. Oh my god. *explodes in paroxysm of squee*

I think I have a new fandom! That was amazing.

I'm not going to read the book for six months or so because it would probably harsh my squee - reliable sources tell me the ending is much happier in the musical. I'm a fan of tragedies but this was too awesome not to savour for a while.

I will however reread the original Oz books ASAP, because I have discovered that I do not remember anything except that one of them involved a princess and a talking rock or something. Well, I must have been thirteen or fourteen when I was reading those, it's not surprising. I recall them as something like a cross between Narnia and Alice in Wonderland.

So uh. It's kind of four in the morning? Only half-way through my ludicrous week and my sleeping patterns are totally fucked XD In fact my eating patterns also appear to be going haywire - today I had tea for breakfast, then forgot to eat until four pm when I had a toasted sandwich, and then went to Avi's for hotpot. This was fun but... the third vegan meal I have had this week, it's kind of freaking me out. You feel like a douche insisting on a burger joint if there's even one vegan in the party, then before you know it you realise you have ingested a metric fuckton of soy and some funny shaped vegetables and you'd just kill for a fucking cheese sandwich or something.

Mmm, cheese. I think I'll go get some cheese.
bliumchik: Item: trebuchet. Item: zombie. Sound effect: braaAAAAaains. Zombie Badminton: priceless.  (zombieminton)
No sooner does my ludicrous week of assignment deth finish than begins a ludicrous week of social overclocking. This is preferable, but I don't think my room is getting tidied any time soon.

I am writing this in a computer lab at my uni, so I sadly won't be able to include pictures at this point in time unless they were already online: but rest assured - there are indeed pictures. I'm hanging out here because I had to be in the city at noon to be photographed by the extras agency I signed up with like, last year, who still haven't got me any work, but that's cool because they don't have a sign-up fee. They want to have a current picture on the books whenever possible - I emailed them about a month after I cut off all my hair and dyed it red, and we have collectively failed to fix it for about three months. But that's done now, and good thing too because my original photo there was really pretty awful considering they had a professional photographer called Pierre and everything. This time it was just the receptionist with a digital camera and I am pretty sure it's better. Did I mention I dragged a giant bag-full of library books down there? I was going to return the books first and then show up, but I was late, so I had to schlep them all the way across the city to uni afterwards. I have no idea why I borrowed quite so many books. Some of them were not even related to my assignments - when did I think I was going to read them?

Anyway, I'm still here because I'm going to see Wicked this evening with Stan and Des and David. I'm excited! So I shall use the time before they show up to try and paint you guys a word-picture of quite how hilarious my week has been and is going to continue to be.

cut because oh my god how much stuff can happen in one weekend? )

And then I came home and discovered that I got quoted three times in last week's ljdq. My weekend, dear internet, was fucking AWESOME.

But the thing is. This week? Directly out of hibernation? Today I see Wicked. Tomorrow Avi's having a hotpot and wine night. Friday is the TROUTS end-of-semester party. Saturday is Nicky's birthday party.

I may actually die.
bliumchik: Mommy, I dropped my giant cowsicle!  :( (Um.)
So I finally gave in and made a twitter. Le sigh. Obviously I do not INTEND to become a fulltime twit, but I had to make one to follow other people's, and there's this tempting text box sitting RIGHT THERE and ohhh this never ends well. You guys what should I use as my twitter icon?

My interview today went well - unpaid internship, but it's low maintenance and largely web-based, so I figure why not. I get references that are not my math teacher out of it! Not so much helping on the earn-enough-to-move-out front but my mum has been unusually tolerable lately. And also I am making surprising amounts from the online tutoring thing, I had not realised I worked 60 hours this month until I looked at the little ~approximate billing pop-up. I cannot figure out how that thing works, there is always a discrepancy between "scheduled hours" and "hours online" with the former being higher even when I have worked MORE HOURS THAN I SCHEDULED (due to "floating" which is where excess traffic gets dumped onto people who don't get paid to wait for it because they're not on the schedule. When it's super busy there is next to no difference.) Anyway, I'm told not to worry about the weirdness because those are not the numbers they use to calculate our pay, but I just don't understand how it's even POSSIBLE to get those numbers in the first place.

I should get to bed, rehearsals tomorrow! I don't think I posted here about the TROUTS play beyond auditions - it's called Opening a Fuzzwollop’s Frame of Mind by Daniel Evans and I'm playing Wilma, this batty old lady type. :D Short Play night is on April 8th, so Sydney folks should come along!
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: (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.

More Things

Mar. 4th, 2009 01:26 am
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
Ahhh, sweet sweet solvency. February's tutoring paycheck is SUCH a relief. In celebration I bought breakfast, some comics and escrima sticks! )

How awesome are they! They did not come in black, obviously, they came in Rattan, but Salvador advised me to duct tape the hand grips in order to avoid splinters, so I figured why not do the whole thing and look very stylish. PS duct tape is really hard to layer evenly.

On the bus to Escrima I overheard two random strangers, a blonde girl and a weedy dark skinned bloke, in the course of one half hour bus trip, discover that they are both dancers, commiserate on the shallowness of the industry, the difficulty of getting gigs and the thanklessness of teaching jobs, decide to form a dance group and exchange numbers. It was kind of awesome.

Tomorrow: to buy the one completely totally not available online in any way shape or form textbook for this semester. Advertising. It's $120 but sadly vital. The other two subjects have e-readings. Today's lot were unspeakably dull, you've no idea. But I was never really planning to write an essay about Douglas Sirk so it doesn't really matter. In class we livened up the discussion some by way of innuendo about Rock Hudson and speculation on the topic of man-eating erection-symbolizing deer. Also tomorrow: jamming with Lily in an actual music room for once instead of on the lawn where passersby can raise eyebrows at us or ask to try out Lily's unicycle.

My cat got into a fight with the neighborhood tom the other day and is limping. We took her to the vet and now it is my job to mash up half an antibiotic pill each morning and evening and mix it with water and squirt it into her mouth with a syringe-like thingy. I should not complain, it is my dad's job to hold her mouth open.

I have almost completely sorted out my wardrobe - everything but the sock drawer is in the right place and much less full of redundancy than it was. This is no thanks to my mother who snuck into my room while I was out to remove things from the massive garbage bag full of useless items and put them back in my wardrobe.

And now: sleeeeeep.
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?)
Ahaha I totally meant to update... somewhat earlier. Anyway, as some of you may have noticed, the 27th was Rabbit Hole Day. Turns out there's an LJ community! [livejournal.com profile] rabbitholeday, who'd have thought.

In any case, What I Did On Tuesday did not in fact involve cyborgs in any way, shape or form, although i did end up looking a little like a cyborg. That's right, it was Liza's Epic Makeover day.

pay no attention to the lulz behind the curtain )

Anyway, there is moar to tell about the past few days but I really need to go to sleep now as I'm heading up to Foster with Nicky tomorrow, and I should really be up by ten thirty at the latest. So I'll see you guys on like... Wednesday or something, idk.
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
I'm sunburnt! But I now own a pair of long black socks with faux-stitching on, and a set of skeleton gloves which are somehow simultaneously loose at the wrist, tight in the knuckles and long at the fingertips. I think they were made for a small Ent. I can totally solve the fingertip problem by just cutting them off though. The gloves', not mine.

Been sending off resumes, argh why must cover letters be so traumatic. But employment is hopefully on the horizon! Goal no. 1: an actual working PC. Goal no. 2: a schedule that works out to ~$400 a week so I can hopefully try moving out of my parents house sometime this year. Goal no. 3: Tattoo. I want to put that earlier on that list but frankly my mother has had three separate meltdowns this week and this shit is just not on. Oh dear, excuse me while I find my headphones. *sigh* Goal no. 4: Backpacking! Europe! With a backpack! These plans are vague to the point of consisting entirely of one conversation with Maria that pretty much just went "oh my god backpacking through Europe would be so awesome!" "oh my god I know!" "neither of us is employed :(" "oh my god I know :("

ALSO been remembering dreams lately (...non-metaphorical ones, I mean) but... not WHOLE dreams, just really vague images. Three nights in a row now! First Jamie from GWS and her gay-above-the-waist...ness. The next night featured the rhythm section of The Used, one of whom had to help me talk the other down from a tree, and I can't remember why... and then there was probably sexytiems, because why wouldn't there be. But the next one was TOTALLY NOT SEXY AT ALL as it involved really realistic and really CREEPY gaping flesh wounds that looked like papercuts until you tugged on them gently. WHAT IS ALL UP IN MY BRAIN, GUYS. IS IT THE HEAT. I THINK IT IS THE HEAT.
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*

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Captain Oblivious

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