Shit That Is Whack

Excerpt from an email I just recieved from UTS Outdoor Activities Club RE a meeting:
Note that most lifts only go to floors with even numbers so unless you catch one of the "special lifts" you will need to take the stairs either up or down a level from the floor you arrive on.

I just. I sort of love this uni.

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woodburner, you will love this. (for a given value of "love" that involves typing O.o a lot.) Stan sent me a reddit link (as he does). The following conversation may serve as a teaser for the contents of said link:

Maggie: why is he ROLLING HIS EYES midblowjob?
Maggie: and why is the porridge not spilling?
Stan: is that really THE STRANGEST PART ABOUT THIS?! :p
Maggie: lemme work up to it :P
Maggie: wtf the bread?!
Maggie: AND THE FINGER CLICKING
Maggie: ooh, we have toast :p
Stan: toast playing saxaphone :p
Maggie: what the FUCK
Stan: I HAVE NO IDEA!
Maggie: WHAT
Maggie: WHAT IS THIS EVEN
Maggie: WHAT
Stan: nothing about this makes any sense at all :p
Maggie: I concur

(LJ-ify your IMs before pasting!)

If replaying that conversation is your idea of a good time, check out this bizarre and nsfw video. Because the universe is way more cracked than we thought.

Things That Rock

I've had a fun couple of days! On Tuesday I went down to the Roxbury to watch an improv comedy show and discuss plans for a theatresports group with TROUTS people. Why is our drama club named after a fish? I don't know, maybe they wanted to upstage NUTS and SUDS in the Weird Acronym Olympics. Anyway, Full Body Contact No Love Tennis was absolutely hilarious, and made me really miss theatresports so I hope our thing works out. Also I finally made friends with some drama kids - now THERE'S my kind of people. On our way out we were accosted by a refugee from a costume party who demanded alcohol in honour of her twentieth birthday. We coughed up twenty cents and a pat on the back.

Wednesday was the semifinals of Scream(!), a rock band competition in which Alex B is kicking ass. Her competition included her boyfriend's band (who were decent aside from me being completely unable to hear their lyrics), a band whose lyrics made me wish I couldn't hear them, a band whose lead singer attempted Stage Antics but succeeded only in waving her hair up and down rhythmically, and a band whose songs consisted entirely of guitar solo. At that point I had to leave because my lift to Bexley (wherever the fuck that is) had a ten year old in the car and thus couldn't stay for the whole show. But I got to see Alex's band, Talkbox, which was sort of the point of the whole endeavor. They're actually pretty good, and will be in the Grand Finals in a few weeks.

And finally tonight (well, last night, as it's sort of two in the morning again) I went to the TROUTS auditions for Signal Driver, an existentialist sort of Aussie play for which I intend to crew (because I probably shouldn't take on the responsibility of acting in first semester, for one thing they expect you to show up to all the rehearsals). We get to paint a giant bus shelter! Henrietta and I both put our names down for art direction and/or general set/props work, although the director intimated that crew may get drafted onstage in the event of a critical dero shortage in the second half.

Exciting stuff! Also I've been experimenting further with the eyeliner, but that's photographs for another post.

(no subject)

So there's supposedly an ljboycott on. Right. And some people are sending postacrds, according to cleolinda. Personally I don't really give a fuck - none of the changes affect me and I suspect very little ever will, and if it ever does I'll just move to blogspot or insanejournal or something. Seriously whatever.

I am pissed that the official Pretty. Odd leak is not working for me, possibly because I'm not in America? Anyway. That was all. Nothing to see here.