La langue d'amour.

J'ai changée la langue facebook au français, pour la révision. C'est très joli. 

Il y a quatre jours, j'ai regardée le film français, La Belle et la Bête et maintenant je révise mon français avec Facebook et petites expressions.

J'adore les langues de la monde. <3 Français, allemand et espagnol.

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Mais oui. Or rather, but yes. If your French is poor, then I shall translate: I've changed my facebook into French, to revise. It's quite fun. Four days ago, I watched the French film (can't remember what film is in French), La Belle et la Bête, (Beauty and the Beast), and now I am revising my French with Facebook and small phrases here and there. (Didn't say here and there).

I love the languages of the word. <3 French, German and Spanish.

I've been leaving random French convos with my grandmother, and my poor Boyfriend - but for him, only little phrases such as 'Je t'aime, tu m'aimes <3', to keep it simple. xD Talk about practising my grammar. Which isn't very good. I do have slip ups - I put 'le' on facebook, instead of 'la' as here, but that's really just sloppiness, rather than my not knowing.

I do wish I had the same capacity as my grandmother to learn and fluent-ise and maintain fluentness with languages, I really do, but I just didn't work hard enough or had quite the head, for all my accents being very good.

The film was easy enough to watch - had subtitles, but I'd have understood quite a bit if I'd taken them away, cause you don't have to worry about plot, names are simple, and the sentences were pretty short, with it being more visual. I would have needed help with the intense scene where Belle does shout at Beast, though. 

It was a good film. 1946. Spent their budget on the amazing effects (for that time - the Beast's costume was fabulous, and the props and set and the teleporting stuff, and the like was impressive), so it was in Black and White (Technicolor was very much around, then)

Interesting film, either way. And very weird.

Ponderings

I wonder, whilst writing my essay on the topic, whether Richard II, had he been allowed to have the people in court that he wanted by the (out of order, imo) barons opposing him, would have had a successful reign.

He did show signs of hot-headedness. It's true - he was quite a spoiled brat, and once he had suspicions about someone it took very little to set him off. But then, once fond of someone, he did elevate them to heights, and there's no real evidence that I've read to suggest that said people would have been overly corrupted.

One of those big ''what if'' moments.

I changed the language of my facebook to French today. I'm in a French mood, and it's kinda like subliminal revision. Not that I get many phrases out of it. But I could watch French films, couldn't I?

How to become Budget Black Cat (Spiderman) for a fiver, in five steps.

Step One: Buy a plain black masquerade mask for £1.25
Step two: Buy a Tarts and Vicars cat outfit for £3.99
Step three: Wear a black top, dark jeans and tuck them into your leather boots. Heels preferred, but can't be helped if you have flatties. (I have suede boots with fur on the top, so I'm wearing those)
Step four: Put on the mask and cat ears, and tail - discard the bow tie.
Step five: Put on some darkish lipstick or borrow long black gloves from a friend. (Optional on both counts)

You're done.

(Webcam since my camera's out of commission)

I don't care if people say she's not a hero, cause frankly, she's not a villain either (she's an anti-hero), and when have I ever properly fitted in anywhere? =P

Hm.

I'm now somehow in the election campaign for History Soc's Social Secretary position. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet.

I'm sure I can't make a hash of it.

Mysteriouser and Mysteriouser.

'Tis a little ironic that the picture that's been stolen, or ''gone missing'' from the English Department is that of Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps he'll figure out his own way back.

What's Up.

I'm taking a brief break from my essay ("“Whilst the Catholic Church has recently reversed its trial verdict on Galileo, it could not have done so in the seventeenth century.” Discuss.") in order to remind myself and tell you lot how dull but otherwise busy life I've got going for me at the moment.

Essay-writing is the obvious biggy: I've written a grand total of 1914/2500 words of this 'discussion', and I'm trying to write about 400-500 words as a conclusion, since I honest-to-peanut-butter can't think of anything else I can or want to say about the matter. The modern church had scientific evidence called Space Rockets and Satellite Telescopes. Galileo didn't. Get over it.

After that I am moving on to the period just before the Catholic Church's Protestant woes, by reading up and forming a plan for my essay entitled ''Was the late-fifteenth/early-sixteenth-century Church in Britain 'ripe for reform'?"

It'll either stay that way, or I'll realise I'm writing more that's relevent to the ''Does the history of Lollardy in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries justify the description of John Wyclif as the 'Morning Star of the Reformation'?". Both can easily cross into the other, and so long as I answer ONE of the questions, I'll be fine, apparently.

As for my final essay, I probably will discuss the extent in which the history of the Middle East is shaped by deterministic factors (Geography, Topography, resources, that nonsense). I have a vague enough answer to that, and know more or less what I'm looking for in reading materials. I just hope that not many people are doing said essay, as this will be done last. I'll have 3 weeks to write it, though, if I finish Galileo today and crack on with the Pre-Ref stuff tomorrow.

It's all rather hard to get into the zone, you know, when your brain bloody thinks about everything else - creative writing plots, food, drink, toilet, catching up with certain people, calling home, fiscal matters, the blog, facebook, creative writing plots, sleep, facebook... =P

I've done one of the most thorough plots to my latest writing project yet, since I'm really quite serious about it. You should all check out Fantasia of Maus's Projects Page to get a sniff of what I'm up to.

I've also got to decide whether or not I'm going to go on the Heroes vs Villains bar crawl tomorrow with the history society - if I don't, it'll be the first social I'll have missed since being ill. That's saying a lot. I should get a medal, really, for being so devoted to my Society. I'll grab some cat ears from the News Agents, and eye-liner pencil or something from a friend, or failing that, just use a felt tip, and draw on some whiskers and claim to be Cat Woman. She's not a hero, per se, I know, but I don't care. I've not got the materials to make a cape. If we were being the villains, I'd use the vampire cape, put on dark eye shadow again and I'd be sorted. Oh well.

Ooo. Idea. Get green face paint, a green wig, and I'm done as She Hulk. Bargain. Wear a green top and skirt and that'll cover the whole "I'm not supposed to be wearing a lot" thing. Too bad I don't have green tights. Oh well.

Actually. I'd probably be mistaken for Shrek or Fiona. Screw that idea.

I've also got to think about what exactly I want to run for for the next exec - Chair person? Social Secretary? I am quite into the idea of Social Sec, but I'll talk to Angela, the current one, about how much time exactly it takes up - I'm fine booking places, arranging things and such. I can always delegate, too, which I suppose is good. (Ball organisation and stuff, for example)

And I can't stop thinking about various other things I have to do, anxieties I have about going on holiday when I am, and ker-razy happenings in my social groups.

I should probably conclude my essay (the one that'll get me academic marks, not this one, though this one will draw to a close as a result), so I'll stop typing now...

You know something's wrong, when...

You have to defrost the food in your fridge.

Loud Annoyances

What I resent most on campus, is having to get up at 4.30 am to a loud noise, put on my coat and slippers, bleary-eyedly make my way 4 flights of stairs, and then wait outside for 10 minutes, whilst some-dunk-body's toast is burning on the 2nd floor.

But you see, I couldn't stay upstairs - because the fire alarm noise is that obnoxious!

A Photo A Day

A friend of mine, through a forum and now Facebook, came up with a really quite fun and original New Year's Resolution; to take a photograph every day for a year, no matter what she's doing. I've seen some of the photos so far, and it looks great fun, and I commented on how I liked the idea, but my life wasn't half as interesting photographically.

She said I should try it for a month, and surprise myself - so I have taken up the challenge. From the 1st of March, I shall be taking a photo a day. I'll upload them onto Facebook, and here (photo slide-show gadget somewhere I suspect) and you can mock or marvel at my photographic skillz and or my life.

There'll of course be the difficulties she listed - not going out but taking one anyway, going out but nothing interesting, or going out and forgetting to charge the batteries. The latter of which will be more prevalent for me, I suspect, as the batteries die after about 3 photos being taken. If I'm lucky. They seem to last ages when I've no need of them, of course!

Gee. Suddenly I feel as though I've got something more exciting to do. Even if it's a picture of the pile of books on my desk or empty glasses and such in my room.

EastEnders

 The show is 25 years old, and it celebrated with a great live episode last night, which also brought one of the longest-going ''who dunnit'' story lines since the "Who Shot Phil?" saga in the early 2000s, to a close.

The first episode I can remember watching was the death of Saskia. I don't remember a whole lot, but I think everybody remembers the big scene with a crazed woman on Steve Owen's back, strangling him, as he desperately hits her with the nearest object: an ash tray.

Bang, she's dead. After that there was the great big Steve-Matthew Rose storyline, and I can remember the Di Marco family, and various other characters.

I was about 8, then, I think. After that it's hazy, until the Dan Sullivan period, as well as other plots. My grandmother was cleaning out a cupboard and found a recording tape, with an omnibus from October 2000, after Sonia Jackson has had her baby on the sofa in Dot's sitting room. Dramatic stuff.

EastEnders ran our lives for about 7 years - it was a routine to eat before EastEnders came on. Mondays and Fridays, before 8, Tuesdays + Thursdays (eventually) before 7.30.

For me and my brother, it was a case of EastEnders on Monday, Tuesday followed by Holby, Thursdays Buffy The Vampire Slayer then EastEnders (or we'd be eating during the former and recording it whilst sulking) and then Fridays EastEnders and whatever else there was on television.

I think, for most people, Wednesday is the most television-less night in the country.

The show plot at one point got quite ridiculous, that our non-EastEnders lives took priority, and it was quite easy to slip out of the habit of watching. Just don't record it when on holiday, and eat whenever we damn well pleased. Occasionally, for Christmas, we'd watch, and it was damn easy to know what was going on, anyway. For the 2 or 3 years I wasn't watching, we still knew who was new on the square, who was leaving, what the big plot was - it was all over the fronts of the television schedule magazines in the shops, particularly the Radio Times. We did watch one or two special episodes - Funeral of Frank Butcher, or as I said, Christmas Big One, or the odd wedding, if we were interested in that character.

Last February, I started watching again. I was going through a very very low patch, and EastEnders was one of the things I could return to as a sort of comfort blanket - yes, the Mayhem, Horror and Misery of Albert Square was a comforting thing! I didn't watch over the summer holidays, but somehow that didn't matter. I probably would this year though. Oo-er.

The time slots also meant that by evening time, when I was ready to wind down, I had something on tap - I could save up episodes if I wanted, or they filled the hole that other t.v. shows I followed left in my week.

It was so easy to watch. I knew the characters, and those I didn't were quickly introduced.

My grandmother bought me the Valentines Day dvd that was released, with a special one-hour episode of Ricky and Bianca, to honour their monumental return and re-marriage. In fact, Bianca's yelling "RICKAAAY" angrily across the square was how most of Walford's residents knew she was back at all!

It contained lots of footage from when I was young, and my god, it brought back memories.

There are some clips, which are repeatedly replayed as ''The most classic'' clips ever, such as the Divorce Papers episode, where Dirty Den tells Ange he knows her game. I wasn't even alive then and I know every bleeding word of that scene.

Some of the actors I feel I've grown up with, and some that I've watched grow so old, they've had to be killed off. I've seen returns, exists and huge family revelations. ("You're not my muvver" "...YES I AM" - another overplayed but brilliant scene)

EastEnders is easy to relate to, even if you're not a knocked up teen, a rape victim, a bi-polar sufferer or even going through a divorce.

I won't begin to say it reflects every day life, cause that'd be bonkers.

But I will quote this:  

"Life doesn't imitate art, it imitates bad television". 

(Woody Allen)

*Ribbit* I'm a frog!

Today I have seen Disney's latest and back-to-old-fashioned 2D hand drawn film, The Princess and the Frog. And what a strange experience that was - but the good kind, don't worry.

You should all know the story - Guy is turned into a frog, frog needs someone to kiss her (disney twist is that she turns into one too, otherwise it's far too short a story without a deep hidden message) and boom! He turns into the Prince he was, and they get married, and all their dreams come true happily ever after.

The twist is that it's nasty voodoo. Yes. The evil voodoo witch doctor of New Orleans uses the prince to achieve his goal to take over the city, so that he can repay his ''friends'' with countless souls. Froggy prince is charming but he isn't all he's cracked up to be, finds a girl in a tiara in a pretty dress, tells her to kiss him, and cause she's also got some (though in her case, minor,) issues with her lifestyle, apart from not being the princess he ''needs'', so she turns into a frog as well. Oops.

But all's good cause eventually they work out what they want, even if it's too supposedly too late.

With fantastic artwork, incredibly corny scenes, fabulous singing and jazzy New Orleans music of the 20s as well as Louis Armstrong-wannabe alligator, this film is great for the family.

Just watch out - as apparently youngsters might be scared by (what I thought to be awesome) evil voodoo scenes.

It may not quite be a cut above the other classic Disney films we all know and love, but it's a certainly not a disappointing return to the classic artwork style in the face of all the amazing 3D effects and computer work we've been experiencing these past few years.

If I go a bit more English Lit'ish on you, I could also say that it was refreshing having a heroine that wasn't hopelessly dreaming and waiting for something to happen - Tiana really worked to get what she wanted, even at the expense of her own ignored emotional happiness. The Prince instead was the helpless loser, (though I thought all the princes in past films were a bit wet) and although he's quicker on the ball when realising what Good Voodoo Lady was on about, it was the good intentions he had once he realised that saved em. Not just turning up at the right moment (*cough* Snow White *cough*). Yippee!


I couldn't help but count the (whether intentional or not) past Disney films they plugged in theme, style or character. I'm sure there was Pinocchio, Lady and the Tramp and bits of The Sword in the Stone echoing throughout. Probably more, if I think about it hard enough!

"Roar out louder! / The quiet fairy is in your sight. / Roar out louder! / To compensate you must gather the shards of a broken love."

The twilight thickens, as the bare trees silhouette against the dark, cold pastel-blue sky. Lights appear at the windows in near by buildings, and there are distant smells of evening meals being prepared. Girls get ready to go out for dinner, or are preparing the kitchen for a nice meal in with another.

Others continue with their work, oblivious to such rituals. Some phone their long-distance partner for a chat, others miss their partner because s/he's away from home for some reason or other. Or people are forcibly reminded once again that they are alone.

Valentine's Day. The day that couples are obliged to splash out and spoil each other, or friends send each other anonymous cards with their own little trade mark to tell each other how much they like each other.(Friendship love or otherwise.)

Valentine's Day, with it's lurid-coloured cards, balloons, tacky little ''meaningful'' ornaments, fake roses, specialised chocolates and pink valentine's day champagne. It's message shining bright and clear through the array of reds and pinks: "Buy the person you love a card, otherwise s/he'll be very upset!"

Apparently, my own boyfriend got lectured by the girls at his workplace last week when he mentioned that "we don't do Valentine's Day".

What's that!? How can you NOT!?! It's not as though you have enough special days in the year to think about! They're only the birthday, christmas and anniversary! You must celebrate something else otherwise what's the point!?

In my opinion, quite honestly, along with the whole charity message preached by that complete plank, Geldof, at Christmas, Valentine's Day can go sod itself in it's lack-of-meaning charade.

Where's the spontaneity? The year-round affection and tit-bits of special occasion that you create yourself?

Geldof has managed to copy Valentine's Day, by forcing Christmas to be that *one* time of year that you give to Charity and "feed the world, let[ting] them know it's Christmas". (Cheers, but the famine happened 3 months ago you prick.) Christmas shouldn't be the one time of year people begrudgingly dig into their pockets any more than Valentine's Day and the other two set days of the year (Birthday and Anniversary) should be the only times the other half feels comfortable or pushed into treating the person he loves.

Valentine's would probably not be so bad, if, as a girl I know pointed out, women weren't expected to be the one's being lavished upon. There is nothing wrong with a woman spoiling her man back - more than just a reciprocated present and cute squeals of delight in the face of whatever her man has surprised her with, but she is allowed to cook for him if she wishes, or, even better, if you're a couple that likes spoiling each other mutually, you could both club together for a thoroughly expensive and flashy evening out in a restaurant or theatre.

Never mind the psychological effects it can have: Stress for the partner who can't think of anything original to get for the Xth VDay they've had with that person; stress about what's ''romantic'', or ''fun'', or ''not cheesy''; depression for those who've recently had a sticky break up or whose other half is travelling elsewhere on the day; eye-sore for those buying birthday cards in Clinton's and don't give a fig about Valentine's Day; and most of all annoyance of those criticised by others for not really bothering!

What am I doing for Valentine's Day? Ringing my boyfriend later, if he isn't too bogged down with his more important work, eating chocolate ice cream and doing work of my own.

After all, I saw him last week and that was infinitely more special than a perfunctory card once a year.

Late-night munchies

Life without toast is not a life worth living.

That is all.

"After-party lipstick looks as though something bled on my lips and it dried there".

The evidence of a good night: Knotted hair, mildly smudged undereye make up, dried out lipstick and heavy eyelids, sore feet (for whatever shoe-related reason). Oh, and a great big grin on my face.

At roughly 5pm I reached the end of the labyrinth that is South West Campus and half-watched Priscilla Queen of the Desert, since it was on the television in Hannah's oh-so-tidy room. It's lucky she didn't come to mine...

Once we'd ascertained my hair was not to be curled, and I jealously watched her put on her make up (her blusher smells of strawberry ^_^) as her short, bright yellow hair twisted in cool ways, we eventually went to meet Kate and others at the bus station.

What a party we were. A mini-Madonna, a girl in a red coat with what looks like nothing but 3/4 tights, white pumps and florescent pink leg warmers on, an 80s opera singer (Kate in a full on ball gown with a feather boa and 80s make up and curled hair) and then of course there's Simon who dresses in a cape, cravat and 1880s hat. Typical. There's always one.

Well, actually, last  night there were two, and unfortunately for Simon, I have to say Jake's costume was that extra bit amazing. His hat had a wig attached, and he had all the frills and breeches.

On the bus we all had a giggle. Then a bit of a laugh as they watched me putting on Kate's lipstick whilst leaning against the standing-up leaning board thing on the bus. I'd not normally go for bright red (though the flash brings out the red far more than in real life - coat and all) - for obvious reasons; my mouth is too full for bright red - but it was fun and well, the 80s only ever had blue eye-shadow and red lipstick. Madonna only got away with the lippy cause she didn't have such a prominent M-shaped top lip xD (I don't like that woman :D)

The party at Revs, though initially a bit sceptical about the so-called ''80s décor", was a success. Sure, we paid £50 for a few balloons and some gauze here and there, but it was our own little bash and incredibly stupid people walking through the ''wall'' (curtains) to get upstairs, instead of going around the tables in the other room didn't ruin it. In fact, it was rather amusing watching them get lost.

Some people didn't stick around for long, or arrived late, but that didn't matter. We had so much fun just being silly and dancing along to old tunes long dumped by radio but not forgotten by our brains.

What I love about music, is if it's fun enough, cool enough or not-club-mix-y enough, I can just totally let go and go with it. People might think I'm drunk or extremely hyper (I guess I was a bit hyper, yeah) but we had such a laugh. And nobody can deny that watching me do the robot is rather amusing.

Only thing missing was The Ghostbusters theme tune. The DJ's repertoire was relatively limited.

 It was really weird at one point though - I needed a top up of Kate's lippy but cause I didn't have my mirror on me, I got Hannah to put it on me. I could see James and his friend watching us out of the corner of my eye. I had to concentrate SO hard not to start laughing and get it smeared all over my face.

The party did draw to a close a little earlier than I'd normally have liked, but I was rather ravenous by the end of it - so whilst everyone else went on to dance in 80s gear at the 90s night of Sugarhouse, I joined my friends back to campus to eat at Pizzetta.

The bus driver glared at us all at one point, refusing to drive on. It eventually emerged it was because of Jade's drinking out of a glass - not the drinking, just that it was glass. Fair enough. It was *so* embarrassing though. Oh dear me.

And I left my umbrella in the initial room we had to wait in at Revs, so that's probably gone for ever. I'll give them a ring later, but nobody had handed it in when I asked at the end of the evening. I danced a tribute song or two, lamenting the 'broken heart' it's left me as it ''went away''. Thanks, Mark, for sharing the pain I was trying to express. <3

Somehow in Pizzetta we ended the night eating and debating the fabby-levels of Colin Firth over that idiot actor that did the Hollywood atrocity-version of Pride and Prejudice. And then I was thoroughly shocked that Kate had *never* seen The Swan Princess. It's as though she broke the law of childhoodness. I'll have to lend it to her. Yep.

See what I mean about my mouth being bad for lipstick? At least there I'm deliberately pouting and tilting my chin up. Whilst trying not to break out in the grin she snapped me in three seconds later.

But it was fun. And they made me teeth look that extra bit pearly white.

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Quickie review of the Revs cocktails, as I had em.

They were very expensive though so I only had 3. God. I started out with £30 and came back with about £5.

Nice - not all on the cocktails though. There was the, £2.15 for the bus, £3 on cake later, £3 on the first cocktail, £3 on the revs card so I would get the cocktails cheaper, £7 on two... oh yeah and the £3.80 I spent on food before we went out... darn it. Didn't keep track of the money too well. And I bought a strip for the raffle so that's another £1.50.

The Strawberry Woohoo: Valentine's Day special

Strawberry juice, vodka (I think) and something else. It wasn't too strong a flavour, which was good. It was quite refreshing and not pungent in fragrance. Plus you automatically get two straws.

The Fruiti Tutti: Vodka, Passion Fruit purée, orange, lime, lemonade

It wasn't as nice as the previous - the vodka tasted quite strong, and the fruits didn't come out as full in flavour as they should have. The lemonade fizz added a nice touch though. And I was tempted to eat the orange pieces in the glass.

The Bella Breeze: Pineapple and Amaretto

My favourite - it was so tasty. Utterly pineapple juice but with a lovely bite of Amaretto after taste. It was rather ''quaffable'', as the grandparents say. Which is perhaps a risk binge-drinking wise. Mark's had a weird foamy top, but mine didn't as much. Or I just drank it properly. It was tasty :3

"I want to go back to Bournemouth...."

Yes. Since coming back, I've had dissertation pressures and angst, essay angst, food angst (I have none!), eye shadow in my eye and I've had to cook for myself. And I'm frozen, even here in my flat. Life is hard without my big cuddly Man-Thing to take care of my emotional and temperature-al well-being.

The dissertation nonsense is really quite irritating. Don't they realise we have 4 essays to write by the week after they want us to have pre-researched our topic choices?

The essays I can handle, if left to it, thanks.

Exams will be an on-going nightmare until I graduate, unfortunately. Apparently 2nd and 3rd years do them about two months before first years; whatever COMPLETE MORON thought that up. Why on earth do first years get two months to revise for exams in which they need a mere 40% to pass AND it doesn't make a difference to their final degree? Why are those doing their degrees given less time to do essays and revision with a low-mark-yet-massive-time-chewing 10thousand word essay on top of that?

Bastards.

I know what you're thinking: "If she's so under pressure, why isn't she doing said essays?" Well screw you, I'm on my dinner break. *tongue out*

I also spent my afternoon trying to sell the remainder ball tickets in the freezing cold. We sold just one, but that won't dampen my, Kate and Hannah's super duper enthusiasm for the awesome clothes and general make up bonanza.

On the upside. I missed nothing of importance this week with my 3 lectures. Huzzah.

End of the 5-day Adventure in Bournemouth

Tis the end: I'm back in my diddy room in Lancaster. Everything that could go right, journey-wise went right, and anything that could go wrong in the "not crying in front of Sam" department went wrong. Come on, go 'aww' at the screen - you know you want to.

Monday was just in-time. It was nice, but he did have to do work for a while, which was a bit of a shame. He made me dinner though - Chilli con carne a la Sam, which wasn't you know, professional, but rather delicious. Just too much to finish for me. So I ate it reheated Tuesday.

Tuesday I went to uni to meet him after work, and we went to the anime society in the evening. It was fun, really. 

Man-Thing's ''second wife'', Ash, and I get on ok now. I think the awkwardness is significantly less. Until next time, maybe. 

Anyway. I'm going to be spending the weekend doing my essay. I reckon I know what I want to write. I'll be doing that whilst thinking about which essays I want to do for my other subjects. It's time to panic starting Saturday. \o/

Aw.

His housemate just thanked me for cleaning the bathroom - he did notice, and he thought "oo it's all clean in here. Must have been a woman, cause it sure wasn't Sam".

I agreed with him.

5-day Adventure in Bournemouth - Days 2, 3 and 4

Tis now Monday. This is my 3rd morning in ol' Portland Road and my first bit of 'me time' since arriving, cause The Man-thing has gone to work.

Not that I'm complaining - absolutely not. I love being treated like a giant cuddly toy and getting bought drinks and food and general luvvin'. It's great fun and I feel speshspesh. (New word for the dictionary)

I do despair somewhat over the hygiene of my man-thing and the other manthings living in the house though. No remaining forks and having to eat with a spoon I can handle. Massive pile of unwashed plates and bowls (though not rinsed..) I can handle. His massive untidy-nest-material bedroom I can handle. But today when I scrubbed the toilet and sink after using dissolving cleaning spray I almost couldn't handle it. I'm not sure my fingers will ever feel clean again.

          From the toilet seat and lid, I disturbed a great layer of red stuff. I told him boys pee up the sides of everything, but he didn't believe me. From around the bowl and flushing button area I took up months of dust, hair (somehow pubic hair was there), fluff and green stuff. Nice. The inside of the bowel, which should be relatively smooth, right? That was rough and utterly un-phased by the dissolving bleach. Also had what I hope was just vomit around the areas where the flushing water doesn't reach.

The sink needed about 5 months of toothpaste, mouthwash and flush scrubbed away. I sprayed the shower but didn't get around to wiping it - someone had one after I left anyway. It'll help. I think there was some mucus down the side of the bath in the end where you climb in and it doesn't get washed away... I rinsed it a bit with the shower head, spraying over the side onto the already every-day-drenched carpet, but I didn't go too much into it since the water was freezing.

          The ultimately depressing thing, though, is that I *thoroughly* doubt that any of them will even notice - after all, grey/blue/green is the new gleaming white.

I am planning to live with Man-thing and some of his man-thing friends and one Woman-thing friend. I get on with her very well, Becky, and I feel incredibly guilty about not being able to 100% guarantee her that I'll be living with them, as it relies completely on my being accepted by Poole's teaching thing. Man-thing says that if I don't get to take up the house contract, they'll look for another girl anyway. Otherwise I'm sure poor Becky would be the *only* thing standing between newly discovered bacterium and suitable cleanliness. 

It only takes two minutes to rinse away toothpaste. To put bleach into the toilet after a particularly messy visit to it... But it took about 30minutes for me to clean the culmination. I know which I'd prefer to do...

ANYWAY!

So Saturday was good fun - Poole was nice, and I didn't buy anything in the end other than the cleaning materials from the 99p or less store. He got his comics though. 

Then we got back and waited for Becky and her Man-thing who were giving us a lift to Tower Park for the Chinese pig-out. It was really good fun - I didn't sit with him and so made quite a bit of conversation with, actually, non-anime people. I dunno. The anime lot are very nice people and I'm sure they're a laugh but I don't know that they really knew what to do with me hah. We'll see what happens tomorrow at Anime Soc.

A small group of us went to the Buffalo Bar up the highstreet for a while, but Man-thing and I went a little early. I always feel bad when he thinks he has to take me home cause I'm tired or feeling a bit off - I would have been fine sitting there and such, but the conversation was a bit lacking and I dunno. Was a bit slow and stuff. I'd have been perfectly ok to stay longer but with him asking every two mins if we should just go home, I get the feeling he half wants to, anyway.

Yesterday, Sunday, we didn't do a lot. Stayed in bed, watched t.v. I got dressed and showered eventually so we could go grab food, but Mister too forever to get dressed after the shower, and we had to rush the eating part. Went about 15mins away from the house to get pizza, and it took a while to be made. Ate half there in the takeaway and then put half in the fridge, for later, since we were due at the Wetherspoons about 15mins from the house in the opposite direction for about 7. 

We were doing the quiz there, for the hell of it. It was nice - the people I'd talked to at the Chinese were there, and we had a laugh. Came about 4th in the quiz, which isn't too bad but got beaten by other people we know, but don't necessarily get on well with. I came back from the loo and made eye contact with them and said hi as I went by their table, but I got the feeling they were a bit put out or confused, or unsure of how to respond. Never mind they've met me twice or three times before. Sam claims that he'd said I was visiting, but who knows. They probably didn't expect to see me at all hah.

Tonight we're spending in, and he claims that he's cooking something for me with the mince in the fridge. That'll be interesting. I'll probably do some work, now, actually.

5-day Adventure in Bournemouth - Day 1

My train was about 20minutes late to Wolverhampton, so I missed the connection. Sucked, but the next one was due in another 40 minutes or so. I arrived an hour after planneded, and then we went home to change before nipping round the corner to his friend's house. Which was fine, except he took me back to his again cause I was a little tired and felt I was falling asleep. I was merely yawning. =P

Anyway. I've already declared my mission statement for this weekend:

To do away with the disgusting state of his bathroom. Honestly. It is disgusting, and I'm now convinced it was a mix of his and his housemates' laziness last year, as well as that one housemate's insanity. (He peed in bottles, so couldn't be expected to clean up his man shavings from the sink)

I just hope that that brown stuff floating to the end of the bath when I showered was just mould.

I've already made a shopping list in my head for cleaning tomorrow: rubber gloves, sanitary flushable ipes for the initial attack, and a special cloth also for the mould growing all the way up his window from about 9 months of condensation. Pretty.

Today though shall be fun day: Poole for comics and clothes, and then on to Tower Park for all you can eat Chinese with people obsessed with Japanese anime. Bit strange to go for Chinese, but then, maybe they don't care so long as it's oriental ;)

Toodles.

I wish I'd known the words to Ballamory in Italian, now.

I have returned from a giggle-tastic, hysterical and hyperactive night out with the history society. It was fab. The lecture was interesting but light-hearted, and dinner with Steve Pumfrey was great fun, specially for those in the middle of the tables that entered conversations at entirely the wrong moments, and the lobster-and-crab activities in the fish tank generated plenty of amusement.

Once we had eaten our fill and said goodnight, four of us went for the bus, and were conversing about various topics that came up in the evening, when walking through the bus station and hobo-like man said to Simon, "I like you".

It was because of his yellow waistcoat, fine riding boots and tucked in yellow trousers. Quite the Derby Gent. We were giggling about how Simon had pulled and eventually the guy came up to us and started talking. He called Simon, "John Wayne", and proceeded to check his pockets to see if he had a gun.

He then asked us all where we were from, told us he was from Naples, and then started to ask poor Kate about Liverpool FC, cause he was a footyfan. We were all struggling to not laugh out loud, but he was so funny. He tried to get her to sing 'Agadoo' with him, then tried to get us all to sing ''What's the Story in Ballamory?" He then called Kate "Ginger", Chris something I can't pronounce or even spell (a band, apparently!) and me, Maggie (don't know why, or how I look like a Maggie, and no, it's not close to my real name at all). He also wanted us to dance, for some reason. He wasn't drunk, just smelt of fags.

He saw his bus had arrived, and was telling us Ciao and to watch the footy on Saturday (LFC vs Everton, apparently) and then pointed at a couple around their late 50s and said "they're Welsh! Say goodbye in Welsh, Maggie!"
"I don't speak Welsh" and the man in the couple said something in welsh, crossing his eyes at us, as the Neapolitan was tickled pink by the humouring and went his way.

We 4 and the old couple were practically wetting ourselves laughing.

Had great fun on the bus home talking about it - somehow guns have turned into a reference to male genitalia, and how guns are loaded, and occasionally some men fire blanks (need fertility help).

Epic night.

Just a thought

How the dickens does Gaston of Disney's Beauty and the Beast know the way to the castle when he leads the mob to kill the beast?

******

Plus a shameless dig at the awefullest saga evar.

(I'm aware that's not real English)

Interesting American Things.

Remember 'French Fries' being renamed in America as ''Freedom Fries''?

Well they've gone one step further, according to a friend of mine's facebook status.

"Xxxx Xxxx : German measles renamed as 'liberty measles' by a Massachusetts physician = highlight of doing dissertation research today".

There we have it.

If you get Liberty Measles, I guess you've got the liberty to not get them again, if you wish.



In continuation with this conversation over facebook, I asked him about it, and he said
"Nope, just a superpatriot being an idiot. At the moment my dissertation ranges from the nonsensical renaming sauerkraut and measles, to the horrific persecution of conscientious objectors. It's just becoming depressing..."

I've asked him what Sauerkraut is now called. Should've been obvious, really: "Liberty Cabbage".

*applauds*

"On the road again - Just can't wait to get on the road again. The life I love is making music with my friends"

My suitcase is packed. Some clothes that require immediate washage are in my rucksack for after my lecture, and I've got my train tickets. This time Saturday morning I'll still be asleep, but in a 'strange' bed. Oo-er.

There might even be a man in it. Unless he's really *awesome* and has already by that time sneaked downstairs and made me breakfast. ;)

^_^ Eee. Seeing my Man-Thing tomorrow night. I get up at 8. I do my 10 am lecture, my 12pm lecture, my 1pm seminar, my 2pm seminar (urgh) then at 2.50 I wish my friends a good weekend, rush to my room, grab my suitcase, put things into my rucksack I hadn't already (unless I just use a different bag tomorrow) and then off to the train station I go, once having acquired some food for the journey. Train leaves at 4.57. Plenty of time. I need to get there at 4.30 ideally.

Then I change at Wolverhampton. (Not been there yet, but it can't be worse than Leeds or Birmingham New Street) and then I get to Bournemouth at about 10.15pm. Where he shall hug me, warm me up a bit, take my bag, and as we go back to his, I can decide whether I'm too shattered by the journey to go round his friend's for a bit, since they want to meet me and she thinks it'd be nice, rather than me meeting about 20 of them Saturday afternoon all at once.

Which is fair, but either way I'll be ok I guess.

Right. So today I'm going to my 10am (in a minute) then I'm doing washing, whilst trying to write up a report on della Porta, and possibly getting a book in the short loan on it. Then I'm either getting lunch or going to the workshop about some Marxist guy... which I don't know I will. And then this evening I'm going to the history society lecture which is for once relevant to my course (specially since the course tutor's doing it) and there'll be thai food afterwards in town. Yum yum.

Phoo. Better get going. But I have hiccoughs! ;_;

Time wasted. For now...

Well I thought I'd give this blogger-compatible software thingymajig a try, to create my own template background. The template of the blog itself had many things I didn't want, but couldn't get rid of, and I think that is what ultimately cause it to epically FAIL. But then it's my first ever background. For anything. (Other than posters and the like.) So I thought I'd give it a go. I figured that if it worked, ''great!", if not, then I'd have to go learn all the more technical stuffs about webpage design and crap. Which is fine. Just. I haven't got the time at the moment.

Did however resize the header for this page, just to use it for a while...

I did take screenshots. I wanted to go for a sketchy look, since I do indeed sketch and doodle a LOT. I'm not necessarily very good, but it doesn't stop me when my fingers get itchy holding a pen, and the lecture is very very dull.

There was more at the bottom of the page, but I over anticipated how tall the background was supposed to be. But about...1000 pixels. But that's cool. I can edit it. x)

So you see, I spent about... an hour on this actual program, and about two hours trying to sort out Photoshop, since it decided to metaphorically blow up.

When it came to exporting however, the html didn't work. All the I had to show for it was the icons for the RSS, Edit, Author and New Comment buttons. Nice.

I do have other tutorials for non-software reliant template making that I can try out when I'm not supposed to be writing essays or doing homework. Urgh.

Got some which even base their ways around photoshop, and go into the html of it all any shizz so it should be very very un-fun and off-putting.

In fact, since writing this (30mins ago?) I have found an actually very simple and very good tutorial that CAN NOT GO WRONG. Well. Only where colour swatch titles are concerned.

After writing the above italicised text, I have tried out said tutorial, and yes it CAN go wrong, since the person writing it has not given the right instructions...

So anyway, that's how I've spent my evening. I'm now going to actually eat something. Nothing too heavy though, as I'm supposed to sleep in around 2 hours.

Lamentation

Don't worry, this isn't a neo-emotistic post. I am merely lamenting the loss of my senses.

THIS TIME LAST TERM I WAS AT LEAST 50% THROUGH MY FIRST TWO ESSAYS

This term, I'm about 50% through the research of my first essay. Nice. Just panicking a little. Not to mention that I shall probably take my lecturer's awesome book, Crusading and the Crusader States (Andrew Jotischky. Buy it), with me to Bournemouth, but with also very probably not really get a lot of it read. I only need to read that book as it is INCREDIBLY good for finding out all the events and possible theories about failures and successes with each crusade in a lovely, clearly written manner. That and my lecturer = <3. We all want to adopt him and take him home to keep as a pet.

AT HOME I USED TO DRINK SOUP MADE OF HOT WATER AND A QUARTER CHICKEN STOCK CUBE

Since levelling up in the world, and therefore having to pay and provide myself with my own nutrition-based needs, it has not even occurred to me to save about £2 per cup of soup by doing the above. Instead I've been buying other flavoured soups, of which I tend to favour the chicken anyway, so there was very little point.

It was only on browsing a guy at Uni's Live Journal space that I made this realisation, since he made a short post describing how to make said ''soup''.

Currently we are having a casual conversation on his wall about stockcube soup. We are therefore thoroughly awesome.

I AM ALLOWING TOO MUCH OF MY TIME TO BE TAKEN UP BY PROCRASTINATION

However it must be stressed that I do actually do work, and I have made plenty of notes for the next few seminars (except this week's... somehow I can't bring myself to finish it. I also can't get hold of some resources, so may have to ask my ''partner'' for this seminar what she thinks).

I'm also supposed to have a shower and get dressed for a meeting at 5. I'm currently still sitting in my dressing gown, writing this, instead.

MY ROOM IS IN AN ALMOST-CONSTANT STATE OF DISARAY

Family and friends from home will think this normal, but really, considering how when all my stuff's at home, in a larger room, with still limited space it's a fair(ish) claim, it's rather hard to keep a box-room overfilled with junk tidy if a lot of said junk is composed of books, papers, sheets, plastic folders, lunch time's plate, necessities such as my medication and hair drier, and the washing bag at the foot of my bed next to the bin. There is just no where to put all of it - I've got very full and tidy shelves. In fact, considering how full it is, and how unused a lot of things are, I'm even taking a lot of stuff home with me at Easter to leave at home until I have a whole house to put them in.

MY BRAIN WON'T STOP SINGING THE SONG AFTER WHICH THIS BLOG PAGE IS TITLED

I don't even think my brain fully knows the chorus words at some points, but there we go. It's irritating. Here I am reading about Frederick II's lazy-assed attempts to get troops to Damietta in 1220, when I've suddenly got 'Pretty Balanced' in my head, demonstrating that it's entirely true that my mind IS a box and things are either put in or taken out. 

EVERYBODY HAS LIVEJOURNAL
Ok. Maybe it's cool to be different, but on searching for a relocation location for my blog, I hadn't even considered livejournal. Does this mean I'm the lamest kid on the block?  At least the profile pages on Blogger are way nicer than the livejournal ones, no matter how customisable a space it is.

"THE NOISE"

Aye, there is a strange electronic noise that's taken our flat by mixed surprise and alarm, as it's noisily emitted from the room next to me, at least twice a day. Sometimes as much as four times. Good stuff - shows it's NOT battery powered, and (apart from the lack of quite the right sort of noise) therefore not a vibrator. 

(My flatmate so wants it to be a giant rubber penis or something. The childish thing.)

It's incredibly loud, and as I allow my pc to stay on later and later, as the close-by humming of the tower quite competes with the noise coming through my door and wall, I do know when it's happening because as people go to and from the kitchen (which is opposite) I hear them telling each other at each other's bedroom doors that it's "happening again" and "I could hear it all the way down here" (here being the other end of the long corridor). 

I have a great desire to ask the girl in the room whether it's her new hair dryer. Partly because I want to know if it's a warped fan/heater or hair dryer (air is definitely involved in this electronic device) and partly because if it IS a new hair drier, then her excuses last term for taking 3 hours at 1am to dry her hair were blatant lies - she claimed her hair drier was broken and so took her longer. The girl still takes a good 50 minutes longer than I do, drying my hair, and my hair's thicker than hers! Mine's done in less than 10 minutes - usually about 5. Depends on how much I've towel-dried it first. Perhaps she should consider doing that and dry her body (perhaps even get dressed!) before she immediately descends upon her poor, heat-damaged hair that's still dripping wet, fresh from the shower. It being broken and therefore ''taking longer'' doesn't explain why she does it three times a day, either.

Crazy times. I've actually recorded the noise on my phone. Unfortunately I have no way of uploading it. But should it ever occur that I'll have to call The Porter at 3am because she's at it when everybody else is trying to sleep, I'll have some evidence. Sounds ridiculous even through the tiny tiny speakers my phone has!