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bliumchikMan, I was having a real emo day (somebody slap me*), but then I came home and got online and was bombarded with awwww. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thelii's RPG post made me giggle, and NIDA Random One asked me for relationship advice, which was so. Damn. Awwww. And funny, since I don't have much personal experience with confessions of undying love et al. But mainly awwww. The fact that I cannot think of any descriptive language except for "awww" is probably a clue that I ought to be expanding my vocabulary a little.
I got a belated birthday present today, which is a cow. Yes, you heard me folks, it is in fact a cow. A inflating cow. And I do not, in fact, refer to the well-know Inflatable Cow. This cow, in actual fact, inflates OTHER things. Like the pen that came with it. That's right - Inflatable Pen. It is the funky. It was accompanied by a set of those pencils with the little cartridges that you put in the back of the pencil, and they push the next one forward. I now have at least eighteen of them. Why do people keep giving me dodgy now-you-see-it stationary?! I have like a lifetime supply of these pseudo-pencils!
Sunday was amusing. I called in sick to work because I really couldn't be fucked (and I was, in fact, somewhat sick) and spent the day alternating between Teh Intarweb and clothes for Slavic's wedding. I ended up wearing my prospective formal dress, and good thing, too - I learned over the course of the night that while the lower half is Teh Awesome, the top is 1. Scratchy 2. Not quite fitting 3. Silly looking and 4. The sleeves pressed into my arm painfully whenever I slouched, which was often. So either I get a different dress, on the assumption that I actually end up going to Avi's formal, or I get this one altered, which will mean completely re-doing the top.
The actual wedding reminded me of sweet corn. It was sweet and corny. There were little children with flowers and a Rabbi saying cliche platitudes in Aramaic under a chupah. Ita's dress was really, really pretty, and they were sweet, and the camera guy was annoying. Mum tried to introduce me to Ita's cousin, who is my age and Israeli but acts like an american cheerleader.
The reception was at that Odessa restaurant, which was X-Treeeemly Russian. As in, there were at least four entree rounds and nobody knew how many there were, so we were full by the time the actual main course came round. Dad and I got there early and spread good cheer and happiness, by which I mean glitter and little "Just Married" silvery thingies. The wedding cake looked impressive and layered, but it turned out the bottom two layers were plastic. To make up for this, there was another cake, but it's the principle of the thing! They even had the little plastic couple on top, how could they not have funky layers?
I ate some nuts while waiting for other people to turn up, and when they did I wandered around being re-introduced to childhood LargeRoundThingUpThereGoo?s by my mother. Half of them turned out to have been my russian school teachers or something. Ugh. Speaking of which, перевод teacher was slightly drunk, according to my mother. She talked loudly about how I used to read under the desk. Then Stan showed up, and got pretty much the same deal. The curse of the Russian community - everybody knows everybody. Or their parents, or someone. We first walked in, my dad points to the band, which is sitting around talking about porn, and goes "Hey, that's Tolik, we learned English together when we moved here." Novikov was playing the violin - he does that at every Russian event EVER. He's like, the official violin guy of the Sydney Russian Community.
Anyway, Stan and I were seated next to someone called Monica, who was, I kid you not, an exact clone of my thirteen year old self. Maybe a bit less ugly duckling, I actually thought she was older than that before being introduced. But every time she opened her mouth I got deja vu. She talked like me, she cracked lame jokes like me, she giggled like me! It was freaky! Augh! Yeah, anyway. We all had a bit of trouble with the crab (which is a stubborn bugger) and I for one can think of no good reason to put cheese on tomatoes without toasting it, but aside from that the food was teh awesome. It's just that by the time Main Course happened, all I had room for was a few potatoes. The thing is, they give you so much TIME when theres nothing to do but nibble on the entrees. And then they bring MORE ENTREES.
Also swedish vodka. It tasted medicinal, which turned out to be because it was warm. So, I came up with the bright idea of rescuing ice-cubes from the soft drink jugs. I am a genius. However, while it goes well with potatoes, straight vodka isn't my thing, so when they brought out new jugs I breathed a sigh of relief and mixed it with orange juice (which was also cold, yay). I tried the wine and the whiskey but they tasted, frankly, like crap. I mean, the wine was okay, but eh. Not my thing. Too sour. On the subject of alcohol, I find it amusing that it doesn't make me any more clumsy than I normally am anyway. I guess I'm just sitting on this threshold of decoordination. If that is in fact a word.
In keeping with its X-Treeeem Russianhood, the music was extreeeeemely loud. As in, we were reclining on the couch at the back of the room, and I went "Hmm, are we sitting under a speaker?" Before realising that there were only two speakers and they were at the front of the room, near the obligatory dance floor upon which Havanagilah occurred. Stan, Monica and I spent most of our time outside, as per usual. I hate the cold, but you just can't have a conversation in there. I promised to link Stan to the www.gizoogle.com version of Good Omens Chapter One, which I shall indeed dig up for it is the hilarity, and he promised to link me to the Psycho Ukelele Rocker, which I am looking forward to, since ukelele is a cool name and I'm intrigued about the very existence of an electric ukelele, let alone someone playing three guitar parts on one.
Towards the end of the night I fell asleep in a cosy armchair for half an hour, being woken by my parents saying it was after midnight and leaving might be an intelligent idea. We got home at like one am, and then my mum woke me at quarter to seven to take my temperature and tell me that yes I was well enough to go to school, before leaving, so of course I just fell asleep again until like nine. Then I commenced to plot an evil plan that went along the lines of "Well, I'm already late, so I may as well miss maths... and hell, arriving half way through sport so I can't logically catch up to them is a good idea too..."
I wouldn't have gone at all, just called in sick, only I had to hand in my application for The Art Of Scientific Explanation or whatever they've renamed my thirteenth unit. And I didn't want to finish typing up said application at lunch due to Alex's birthday thing. So I missed a few buses and arrived at twenty past twelve, running into Miss Mass. She shepherded me into the hall, and escaping to the computer room required telling her that I was going to go see if my class had not gone to sport due to rain *cough* yeah. Diana was in the computer room, also bludging. I finished the damn thing and sent it to print, then went back and smiled my innocent smile to Miss Mass until the bell rang.
Jess baked Alex a chocolate cake and melted candles to shape her name, which was cute. The maths room was covered in chocolate afterwards. And the blackboard in "you redefine the meaning of whore" and its ilk, because these are our year elevens we're talking about. Liza came in halfway through on a high from her Judo lesson and went around trying to flip people. You'd think Stan was flippable, what with his size and everything, but he seems to have an extremely solid sense of balance. It was really funny watching Liza go "Right! Stand still, I'm gonna throw ya! Ha! ...ungh... Dammit Stan stop resisting me!" "I'm not resisting you!" "Yes you are! Gah, damn you and your balance! ... ... Alex... how do you feel about carpet?"
I can see this is turning into one of my Trademark Lengthy Entries, so I'll leave you all with a tale Shelly's X-Treeeem fluffy bunny, which she has been carrying around all day because she has to give it to Aron from somebody. It's soooo fuzzy. And Shel is sooo fun to patronise. See, you call her cute, right? And then you go and do something cute and she patronises you back, and then you can go "Heh, that's ironic, isn't it?" Which infuriates her and creates more fuzzyness. Heh.
PS: My mum is screaming like a baby because her dad kept annoying her while she was trying to watch Home and Away. You see where I get my Drama Llama genes from?
*In fact, does anyone know a good exorcist that specialises in the Spirit Of Emo? That bitch is pissing me off.
thelii's RPG post made me giggle, and NIDA Random One asked me for relationship advice, which was so. Damn. Awwww. And funny, since I don't have much personal experience with confessions of undying love et al. But mainly awwww. The fact that I cannot think of any descriptive language except for "awww" is probably a clue that I ought to be expanding my vocabulary a little.I got a belated birthday present today, which is a cow. Yes, you heard me folks, it is in fact a cow. A inflating cow. And I do not, in fact, refer to the well-know Inflatable Cow. This cow, in actual fact, inflates OTHER things. Like the pen that came with it. That's right - Inflatable Pen. It is the funky. It was accompanied by a set of those pencils with the little cartridges that you put in the back of the pencil, and they push the next one forward. I now have at least eighteen of them. Why do people keep giving me dodgy now-you-see-it stationary?! I have like a lifetime supply of these pseudo-pencils!
Sunday was amusing. I called in sick to work because I really couldn't be fucked (and I was, in fact, somewhat sick) and spent the day alternating between Teh Intarweb and clothes for Slavic's wedding. I ended up wearing my prospective formal dress, and good thing, too - I learned over the course of the night that while the lower half is Teh Awesome, the top is 1. Scratchy 2. Not quite fitting 3. Silly looking and 4. The sleeves pressed into my arm painfully whenever I slouched, which was often. So either I get a different dress, on the assumption that I actually end up going to Avi's formal, or I get this one altered, which will mean completely re-doing the top.
The actual wedding reminded me of sweet corn. It was sweet and corny. There were little children with flowers and a Rabbi saying cliche platitudes in Aramaic under a chupah. Ita's dress was really, really pretty, and they were sweet, and the camera guy was annoying. Mum tried to introduce me to Ita's cousin, who is my age and Israeli but acts like an american cheerleader.
The reception was at that Odessa restaurant, which was X-Treeeemly Russian. As in, there were at least four entree rounds and nobody knew how many there were, so we were full by the time the actual main course came round. Dad and I got there early and spread good cheer and happiness, by which I mean glitter and little "Just Married" silvery thingies. The wedding cake looked impressive and layered, but it turned out the bottom two layers were plastic. To make up for this, there was another cake, but it's the principle of the thing! They even had the little plastic couple on top, how could they not have funky layers?
I ate some nuts while waiting for other people to turn up, and when they did I wandered around being re-introduced to childhood LargeRoundThingUpThereGoo?s by my mother. Half of them turned out to have been my russian school teachers or something. Ugh. Speaking of which, перевод teacher was slightly drunk, according to my mother. She talked loudly about how I used to read under the desk. Then Stan showed up, and got pretty much the same deal. The curse of the Russian community - everybody knows everybody. Or their parents, or someone. We first walked in, my dad points to the band, which is sitting around talking about porn, and goes "Hey, that's Tolik, we learned English together when we moved here." Novikov was playing the violin - he does that at every Russian event EVER. He's like, the official violin guy of the Sydney Russian Community.
Anyway, Stan and I were seated next to someone called Monica, who was, I kid you not, an exact clone of my thirteen year old self. Maybe a bit less ugly duckling, I actually thought she was older than that before being introduced. But every time she opened her mouth I got deja vu. She talked like me, she cracked lame jokes like me, she giggled like me! It was freaky! Augh! Yeah, anyway. We all had a bit of trouble with the crab (which is a stubborn bugger) and I for one can think of no good reason to put cheese on tomatoes without toasting it, but aside from that the food was teh awesome. It's just that by the time Main Course happened, all I had room for was a few potatoes. The thing is, they give you so much TIME when theres nothing to do but nibble on the entrees. And then they bring MORE ENTREES.
Also swedish vodka. It tasted medicinal, which turned out to be because it was warm. So, I came up with the bright idea of rescuing ice-cubes from the soft drink jugs. I am a genius. However, while it goes well with potatoes, straight vodka isn't my thing, so when they brought out new jugs I breathed a sigh of relief and mixed it with orange juice (which was also cold, yay). I tried the wine and the whiskey but they tasted, frankly, like crap. I mean, the wine was okay, but eh. Not my thing. Too sour. On the subject of alcohol, I find it amusing that it doesn't make me any more clumsy than I normally am anyway. I guess I'm just sitting on this threshold of decoordination. If that is in fact a word.
In keeping with its X-Treeeem Russianhood, the music was extreeeeemely loud. As in, we were reclining on the couch at the back of the room, and I went "Hmm, are we sitting under a speaker?" Before realising that there were only two speakers and they were at the front of the room, near the obligatory dance floor upon which Havanagilah occurred. Stan, Monica and I spent most of our time outside, as per usual. I hate the cold, but you just can't have a conversation in there. I promised to link Stan to the www.gizoogle.com version of Good Omens Chapter One, which I shall indeed dig up for it is the hilarity, and he promised to link me to the Psycho Ukelele Rocker, which I am looking forward to, since ukelele is a cool name and I'm intrigued about the very existence of an electric ukelele, let alone someone playing three guitar parts on one.
Towards the end of the night I fell asleep in a cosy armchair for half an hour, being woken by my parents saying it was after midnight and leaving might be an intelligent idea. We got home at like one am, and then my mum woke me at quarter to seven to take my temperature and tell me that yes I was well enough to go to school, before leaving, so of course I just fell asleep again until like nine. Then I commenced to plot an evil plan that went along the lines of "Well, I'm already late, so I may as well miss maths... and hell, arriving half way through sport so I can't logically catch up to them is a good idea too..."
I wouldn't have gone at all, just called in sick, only I had to hand in my application for The Art Of Scientific Explanation or whatever they've renamed my thirteenth unit. And I didn't want to finish typing up said application at lunch due to Alex's birthday thing. So I missed a few buses and arrived at twenty past twelve, running into Miss Mass. She shepherded me into the hall, and escaping to the computer room required telling her that I was going to go see if my class had not gone to sport due to rain *cough* yeah. Diana was in the computer room, also bludging. I finished the damn thing and sent it to print, then went back and smiled my innocent smile to Miss Mass until the bell rang.
Jess baked Alex a chocolate cake and melted candles to shape her name, which was cute. The maths room was covered in chocolate afterwards. And the blackboard in "you redefine the meaning of whore" and its ilk, because these are our year elevens we're talking about. Liza came in halfway through on a high from her Judo lesson and went around trying to flip people. You'd think Stan was flippable, what with his size and everything, but he seems to have an extremely solid sense of balance. It was really funny watching Liza go "Right! Stand still, I'm gonna throw ya! Ha! ...ungh... Dammit Stan stop resisting me!" "I'm not resisting you!" "Yes you are! Gah, damn you and your balance! ... ... Alex... how do you feel about carpet?"
I can see this is turning into one of my Trademark Lengthy Entries, so I'll leave you all with a tale Shelly's X-Treeeem fluffy bunny, which she has been carrying around all day because she has to give it to Aron from somebody. It's soooo fuzzy. And Shel is sooo fun to patronise. See, you call her cute, right? And then you go and do something cute and she patronises you back, and then you can go "Heh, that's ironic, isn't it?" Which infuriates her and creates more fuzzyness. Heh.
PS: My mum is screaming like a baby because her dad kept annoying her while she was trying to watch Home and Away. You see where I get my Drama Llama genes from?
*In fact, does anyone know a good exorcist that specialises in the Spirit Of Emo? That bitch is pissing me off.
