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.
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.
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