Grrrrrrrrrrrr and waaaaaaaah and things

Yesterday the remaining £150 of my overdraft was, for some reason, removed from my account. The only explanation I can give is that Warwick Accommodation has cashed my deposit cheque (post-dated for 2nd October, grrrrrr). Alex lent me some money until my loan goes in, thankfully. But still wah. My Dad just rang me saying he and my mum think I might just have underestimated how much I've spent by £150, which is very very annoying, as I know I wouldn't be that stupid with my money. Ok so it might not be Warwick Accommodation - I don't know how easy it is to cash a cheque too early by mistake - and I'll get a mini-statement to investigate further tomorrow. This post will be very dull I know, sorry but typing is helping me let go of my ANGER GRRR :-) and feels necessary at the minute. I can only hope it was Warwick Accommodation, as an attempt by them to remove another £150 next week may result in my nervous breakdown. Blah and bleurgh!

I am silly, but it does me good...

...We biological scientists had a letter at the end of last term saying we have to go to a meeting on the first day of term, and I lost this bit of paper but was sure it said we had to be in at 9am, damn department. But I forgot where, so I searched everywhere(ish) for the sheet with the details tonight, to no avail. I was about to turn the light out an hour or so ago, so I could just turn up and ask someone at Gibbet Hill in the morning, when I had second thoughts and decided to look again for the paper. I found it, and it said our meeting was at 12pm! That story was quite long and boring but I am writing this post in an effort to help me become tired enough to go to sleep at some point tonight. Yes, when I thought I had to go in at 9 that thing was happening where it's the night before school begins again and something stops you from sleeping until two hours before you have to get up. I think maybe it's a subconscious thing - because you know you have to get to sleep before a certain time your mind does everything it can to keep you awake. Or maybe it's because I haven't gone to sleep before 4am this week. Hmm, who knows?

Top B tomorrow, and lots of queuing no doubt but still, Top B! With no middle-aged men! Hurroo! It will surely be exciting. Well, I am still very untired so I think I will go and play some internet games. Nanoo, nanoo.

I love this!

I have just found the best game in the world! Heehee.

A post on the gift of SONGS

I have just realised I forgot to start writing my Ode to Streptococcus pneumoniae (always remember the italics and to capitalise the genus, and not the species, people, ooh get me, I'm so biological). Maybe I will start writing it after this post - I think I am bored enough. Maybe I will not. No I will.

I was bored a few days ago on the bus to Coventry and decided to text my friend from home, Anna, and in my mental treasure trove of potential texts-about-nothing I found the lyrics to a musical we were both in on my 14th birthday at the main concert hall in Leicester. It is about "the intriguing story of the history, production and trading of coffee." Our music teacher made us do it, with loads of other schools. And you wonder why I turned out the way I did... Anyway since being cruelly corrupted by certain uni friends, I have noticed that the musical was full of sexual innuendo. Let me give you some examples:

She's coming, she's coming. We know she's on her way. We're confident she's coming with the minimum delay...We're spanking new containers (never quite worked out what they were getting at there), shining in the light. Shunting in anticipation, eager for delight...

And that was just one song! What are we teaching our children?! It was bad enough making us sing for several hours about coffee and the IMF. On my birthday. No party, just a celebration of coffee. I don't even like coffee.

I bought a new printer cartridge the other day, so imagine my disappointment to find that Edward Monkton's new website doesn't let me print his pictures off to stick on my wall any more :-( Now I might even have to go out and buy the cards. Shocking.

Monster deep post

Ok, you'll probably have noticed the bar at the top of these Blogger blogs with a button (Next Blog) that lets you look at other random people's blogs. Well tonight I was bored and pressed it a couple of times, and found the blog of an American girl whose whole blog was about her eating disorders. She described how her friends and parents had noticed there was something very wrong with her eating habits, and how she did everything possible to hide it from them. Her parents took her to the doctor but she even said she'd wear heavy weights in her bra to stop the doctor noticing any weight loss. It was really sad. She can't help herself because she's so deeply affected by her anorexia and bulimia, they've become her "friends" if you know what I mean. I don't know an awful lot about eating disorders, but I did feel the need to comment and remind her she's not alone and other people have gotten over eating disorders so there's hope, but I obviously couldn't do much else to help, as I'm hopelessly underqualified to comment any further! I don't know whether incidences of eating disorders have risen since the media's idea of a "beautiful" woman (or man) have been shoved in our faces for most of every day, but I suspect this to be the case. It's so damn annoying! I think everyone has, at some point, believed they were hideously ugly and fat, usually during teenage years I suppose. I used to think I was ugly, and often still do. Not just average-looking. I mean really, really ugly. Luckily my views are changing slightly for the better (about time too, I'm getting old!). I remember probably about three or four years ago, I was having a late-night chat with my mum about the whole confidence issue and I ended up crying - no surprises there, then! - because it just hit me how ugly I felt, I had more acne than I have now and I hated my nose and my pasty skin and well, just about everything. It was the first time I'd talked to my mum about it properly, and I made her cry - she kept telling me I wasn't ugly, I was the opposite of ugly, I was beautiful and she couldn't understand why me and my brother had such low self-confidence and she thought she was a bad parent because of it. Of course, I didn't (and still don't) believe I was beautiful (she's my mother, she's bound to think that) but for some reason this time it made me think maybe I'm not unbelieveably ugly, but just the same as your average woman. That maybe I was at least acceptable. Strange really, one conversation did so much for my confidence! I read magazines that claim to have plus-size models, but they just pick a couple of size 12 girls and then next issue go back to size 6 models. Waaaah! Just look at the size of the women in the new Dove campaign, it's ridiculous, they're not fat at all! And there's not a lot we can do about it. Well not a lot I can think of at this time of morning anyway. A rare deep and meaningful post, eh? I won't make it a regular occurrence, promise. Hehehe. No, jolly posts in the future about bunnies and squirrels and things.

Just a quick waaah.

I am kind of getting round to sorting my room out now (after a week and a half of sleeping amongst boxes). I've just managed to sort my CD player out so I can once again play the radio. Well that's what I was going to do. I put Mercia FM on (isn't it fabulous) to find the biggest insult in song form poking and biting at my eardrums (in a metaphorical way) so I had to turn it off after, oh, a couple of seconds. Oh yes the song I'm talking about is "Babycakes". It really does disgust me just to write that word. This "song" is making my life hell at the minute. Imagine a horrible little man covered in herpes that looks like this who steals a nice baby (the cute kind, not one you could take or leave, that won't do for this comparison) and rips it apart in front of your eyes, showing you every torn bloody internal organ released in the process, then opens his mouth to reveal writhing maggots and devours the baby piece by piece. Now that's how I feel when I hear this song. Just to let you know.

The best film ever made

(The following is sarcasm and you must not in any way be believed to be my genuine opinion.) "Like It Is" is easily the best film I have ever seen, and beats even American Psycho in my favourite films list. With such unforgettable quotes as "Bitchy!" and "Shit! Fuck! Gay! Fuck! Shit! Gay! Gay! Shit! Fuck!" (you had to be there), and some of the most captivating performances in British, nay, world, nay, universal film history, I simply do not understand where the Oscar nominations went. I mean, any film with Dani Behr and Roger Daltrey of The Who has got to be a masterpiece, hasn't it? Another thing I don't get is why I have not heard of bizarre acronym I can't remember, the low-budget-but-still-fabulous-boyband-member-in-a-trolley-video group?! I need their music now!

Seriously, why has this film got 6.8/10 on the IMDb website?! Was it meant to be a comedy? Well watch it anyway, it's in the Pride library (or will be when it's taken back from here) and is worth it if you are extremely bored and fancy a "so bad it's brilliant" type film.

Ok time to sleep - just remember, whenever you ask for takeaway food, demand a TRAY! Or all of your relationships will fail, oh yes. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Still unpacked!

Aren't holidays great? Once again I have got up too late to even watch Richard and Judy, which is shameful, but at least I got to top up on Knightmare last night. I brought a tapeful of episodes from home taped from Challenge (plus the final BBLB because I forgot to tape over it) and last night we finished them all! It was most disappointing. Will have to tape some more when I go home again, although they only show it on Saturday and Sunday knights (hoho) at the minute rather than twice a weekday. I recommend watching Knightmare in the dark, although you can't see Fruit Corners any more but it's worth it for the scary element the darkness adds.

I'm sure I had a profound answer-some-of-my-niggling-problems dream just before I woke up today, but I can't remember what happened. It was something to do with spending all my money on a ghost hunt and so losing the means with which to buy food until my loan comes through. I think there's still a message in there... Considering there was a man (let's call him Mr Benzene) who had a dream one night that there was a snake with its tail in its mouth, and from that worked out the structure of benzene, I feel my dream interpretation skills have a long way to go. If I'd had that dream I would've looked it up in my kiddies' dream dictionary, which for snake says "A snake is said to represent sexual desire and is known in the dream business as a phallic symbol: it may represent a phallus or penis." I would've gone away thinking I'd had a penis-related dream and thought nothing of it. Maybe Mr Benzene used a special Dreams for Chemists book: "A snake is said to represent chemical desire and is known in the dream business as a chemical symbol: it may represent a benzene ring. Congratulations! You have discovered the structure of benzene!" I must remember to look for one of those.

Forgive the layout of "Musings on Mice", I tried to put spaces between the paragraphs several times and it never worked, damn it. I bet it'll work for this one, oh yes, when I really couldn't care less whether there were spaces between the paragraphs. But when you're dealing with fine art... tut.

Musings on Mice

Now, some of you may not believe in the power of the car boot sale. However, as you may know, I am rather fond of harnessing this power every now again. You may not believe that items purchased at a car boot sale can change the course of your life forever. I have evidence to the contrary, and I believe that you will be convinced of the validity of my claims after reading the following item of literary genius. Recall my recent bargain buy of Pictionary for a small amount of money that I can't at this moment remember. While preparing for my first use of said game last night, we happened upon a small, red "Handy Tablet" notepad containing poetry of the highest standard, which touched all of our lives. Read it for yourselves. We (of the Cov Mansion household) named it "Musings on Mice":

Musings on Mice

I fingk mice are rather nice.

Their teyols are long. Ther fesus are small. They havnt eny chins at all. Ther erys are punk. Ther teeyth are white. They runabawt the house. They niboy fings they shed taoch (?) and no one sems to like them.

But I thingk mice are nice.

(Anon)

Judging from the language, I think it may be from Olde England and probably worth an absolute fortune. I'm off to Christie's to cash in on my fortunes.

Coventry again

Yay! My computer is connected to the internet in Cov! 1st time! The only thing is, MSN Messenger doesn't appear to be working. Wah for that. I am surrounded by un-unpacked things and all the furniture is wrong - the landlord seems to have placed the under-bed storage area thing next to the wall, also covering a double plug socket in the process - where's the logic in that?!!! Anyway, enough about my house problems. Let's talk about cheese. My favourite cheese is Red Leicester, as it is brilliant. Try it yourself - work out what your favourite cheese is, and why? I feel a poll coming along...