Fuck you I won't do what you tell me

Ok, its t-minus 55 minutes until R-bizzle arrives here to drive me to the bus stop to begin the Blogchella mission.
I'm convinced I have forgotten something vital, but I have my suncream and my hat and my stylish new $5 trainers, so we're good to go.

See you on the other side!!!!

Bond to Jayawardene, Sri Lanka 142/3 after 33

Sunny Tuesday, no school today, slept for about 10 hours last night, had some Marmite on toast for my breakfast, thinking about home cos its ANZAC day tomorrow and Bic Runga is playing on my iTunes, leaving town tomorrow night for the Blogchella mission, have a job organised for the summer, plans for the day include channelling my inner Domestic Goddess and grading papers.

Its a bittersweet kind of day.

Also, Daniel Vettori is the man. After all these years, I still have a crush on him. What am I, 14?

"So, life's a bitch. What do you want to do, cry about it?"

I watched The Episode last night, Maelstrom.
(Yes, I'm talking about Battlestar Galactica, build a bridge).
Spoiler alert....

Thing is, I KNEW what was going to happen at the end, because a) quite frankly; foreshadow much?!?! and b) because Ben told me.

That didn't stop me from totally losing it when it happened.

Yes, I am probably unhealthily invested in certain fictional characters, be they television or literary characters (I still worry about the fate of Saleem Sinai and his pickle factory) but in some ways they become important in our lives.

I am beside myself with anxiousness about the CSI season finale because I know who the Miniature Crime Scene killer's next victim is (go the spoiler boards!!) and nothing has been made public about a certain actor's (gender neutral) contract for season 8 and I know CBS are probably just fucking with us because they made this mistake before at the end of season 6 when Brass got shot and we knew he wouldn't die because he had signed on for season 7. But this one looks like it might be a real humdinger of a cliffhanger.

Anyway, I lost it last night when my beloved Starbuck bit it, and I know that in a couple more episodes she will return, again because Ben told me (ah, bless ya!) and I also know SHE IS NOT THE FINAL ONE because quite frankly my feeble little mind couldn't handle that.

Needless to say I am pretty fragile at the moment given the last month and the intense isolation that has resulted from it, so please nobody do things that may in the slightest bit upset me or I will either have a tantrum of epic proportions or sit in the corner and cry for an hour.

Its up to you to figure out what could possibly make a tough chick like me cry.... Hint: nobody sing "You are my Sunshine"....

Annoying much?

I'm sitting in my office at university rocking out to The Datsuns on my iPod and attempting to finish a presentation I have to deliver in a couple of hours, and some annoying cunt keeps opening the door and peeking in just enough so that I can't see who it is only the top of their head. Evidently they are are looking for someone who isn't here, but surely one look is enough?
I'm fairly certain none of my fellow residents of 027 are capable of pulling Star Trek type transport. Given that there are no windows in the basement, nobody is going to get in here via any route other than the door.

NOW FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!!
wanker.

edit......
I just got a paper accepted for a conference in South Africa.
Awesome.

Put me out with the waste, this is not what I do

Nine sleeps to go, in one week tomorrow I will be headed west.... Actually south east, to Brooklyn, from where I will get on a plane and go west.
My neck hurts, my shoulders ache and I haven't done nearly enough work today because I am motivationally challenged.
Also, its fucking snowing. April 17th and its fucking snowing.
Shitfuckarsecuntbollocks.
I was talking to the delightful Ms Sunshine yesterday and she expressed her disbelief when I told her about the snow, so here is proof.

However, the good news, aside from my imminent Coachella cherry-popping, is that it is currently 7.07pm, and I am still in my jammies. Booya.

Did you cut yourself shaving or were you just thinking too hard?

I have decided, because this sort of thing is important, that I will let this guy audition to be my next boyfriend.

Yes, we can see how hot you are.
Really quite hot.
We are basking in your hotness.

Yep. I think I just hit rock bottom on the sad-ometer.
Must be time to start digging!!!

Blah blah blah

Oh my life is so exciting right now it's Saturday night and I'm sitting here with a cup of tea and sewing up a top in preparation for Coachella and watching a dvd. Before that I was working on my law presentation and stuff for this week's history class its all go right now.
Actually today doesn't suck too badly cos tonight I went out for dinner with people who are clever and interesting and as an added bonus I get leftover Pad Thai for lunch tomorrow.
Then I went to Tar-jay and got an airbed for $10 and some baby wipes and a drawstring backpack with a unicorn on it. It was awesome.

Who am I kidding, life sucks right about now for a bunch of reasons but there is always something to be happy about whether it be a trip to Target or the fact that there are only 12 days left until Coachella as I told my Mum its the thought of Coachella that is the only thing keeping me sane right now this is a really long sentence.

I want to go home but I'll settle for 3 days in the desert with my blogging friends and all those dirty indie hipster boys waiting to snog me. I am currently auditioning for a new bf, so it seems as good a place as any to look.

This is extra sexy it should encourage lots of boys to snog me: I have excema on my finger it looks like I've got leprosy I am so hot.

I had to explain to Lindsey the difference between a snog and a shag, she thought they were the same thing bless her little heart.

This post brought to you by the letters ADD. At the tone, the time will be 2.30am.....
...................................................................................................BEEP!!!

And so it goes....

Kurt Vonnegut is dead.
Long live Kurt Vonnegut.

Thank you for Kilgore Trout, for the Church of God the Utterly Indifferent, for Bokononism, for Cat's Cradle, for God Bless you Mr Rosewater, but most of all, thank you for Slaughterhouse Five.

I hope you liked it here.

"I guess I should stop trying to impress you"
..."That would impress me"

Wanna hear something gross?

Warning: Its pretty gross.

Ok.
In January I got a wee mole removed from my hip/arse area. Kind of where the label is on the back on your jeans. Anyway. The stitches are internal, and they take a few months to break down. Thats cool, I've had this before and its all good. Better than having skin cancer, aye?

So I've noticed the stitches are gradually disappearing, I can tell because I can feel the lump they make under my skin, and its getting smaller. But one thing I've noticed in the last few days is that there is a tiny little spike in my skin, right at the edge of where the stitches are. And it is getting increasingly pronounced.
Yes, one of my dissolvable stitches is making its way out of my body, but unlike the rest of them its taking the most direct route.
It's the most intense combination of exceedingly gross and absolutely fascinating.

Are there heart strings connected, to the wings you've got strapped on your back?

One thing I have learnt in my few years on this planet is that sometimes its ok to be not ok. For years I would struggle through, always believing that breaking down or taking some time to heal was a sign of weakness. I refused any help that was directed my way, and the consequences were messy to say the least.
But now I've learnt to say that I'm not fine, and to take a little time out to fix whatever is broken, or to reconcile myself to its new shape as the case may be. Right now, I'm not ok. I know I will be ok again soon, but right now I need some time. Which explains why I nearly kissed my law professor the other day when he said I could take an incomplete for the course, and that he would sign off on whatever I needed.
This weekend I am dogsitting, so Maggie the Mega Puppy and I are going to have some quality walkies and snuggling on the sofa time, and spend just a little while not working.

The upside of the trauma and drama of the last couple of weeks is that I've lost 8lbs. Woohoo. Maybe I will fit into my summer clothes after all......

And now I have to pontificate on Fanon. Fun.

You want to know why I can't sleep unless I've got a belly full of wine

Yes I live out loud and I have to say things sometimes to other people because there is simply not enough room in my head and sometimes I blog things that others wouldn't for much the same reason things get so confused inside my head and its so cramped that I can't see them clearly for all the clutter so I have to get them out so I can see them properly then I can make an attempt at figuring them out.

So, it is done.

And now I can remember all the good parts, because half a year is a fairly significant amount of time really, so I must keep remembering my reasons which is a double edged sword because while I remain convinced I did the right thing I am continually reminded of the disappointment I felt when I thought he was different and I thought I could count on him.

I guess that will teach me.