I'm an evil giraffe covered in BEEES! (My, these titles just get worse and more irrelevant, don't they?)
Wearing white socks, grey Levis 544s, electric blue top, grey vest top
Eating/Drinking water.
Hearing Guillemots – Little Bear
Dreamt about nothing particularly last night, but I had an interesting dream the other night. I have been tortured greatly by a gang of magpies hanging out in the tree outside my bedroom window. They are loud and they have been driving me mad. Especially since they do their aggrivating clicky noice an awful lot between 4.30am and 7.30am which is prime sleeping time. So, I had my window open, and in that state beween sleep and wakefulness, I thought there was a magpie trying to get in my window (I was slightly awoken by the racket they were making) and so I shut my window. Then, my dad came in the room and started rummaging through my curtains and then threw a rather slimy, moudly looking thing across the room with a hearthearted splat. It was a very dead bird. It was all decaying and generally just gross and it had landed on a piece of A4 lined paper. We then tipex-ed over it. Then I woke up and noticed my window was shut and my windowsill behind my cutains was discoloured (actually from bleached and unbleached parts of the paint due to things blocking the sunlight and stuff) and I was confused to how much of the dream was true. I feel the tipex-ed dead bird didn’t really happen though, thank God.
Currently reading Actually. Nothing. I may cry.
Present MSN name Believing the lie that time will heal all wounds -- which is just a nice way of saying that time deadens us.
Talking to Ben
Last text from Fido
Word of the Day bees
I am about to write THE most boring blog post in the history of blogging.
Because I am going to tell you about my exams. Those who suffer from examaphobia may leave now at the exits marked ‘Multiple choice question: pick a door – A or B?’
I have finished all my exams now. Psychology was the opening exam and it wasn’t too bad, but I don’t think it was that nice either. Then followed English Lit and as much as I love the subject, I can never tell how I’ve done. Sometimes when I try reeeeaaally hard, I get the arsiest (I’m writing this on MS Word and ‘arsiest’ is apparently a word, heehee) mark, yet, and the example was my essay review on Memento for my Drama piece for English at GCSE – I spent maybe two hours writing it with no plans and no rewrites and it got full marks, top A* and all the English teachers drooled over it calling it ‘genius’. It’s not a bad piece of writing, but I don’t really see what’s ‘genius’ about it or perhaps I’m in a state of modest denial.
It’s just like how I’m in denial about the recent dancing madly around the house to this dire song that I’m listening to a lot in this day an age, that is so… catchy and happy that it’s impossible to really like: The Magic Position by Patrick Wolf. Yes, I know. The dancing wasn’t the problem, but I was in the conservatory when the window cleaners rolled up and did their ‘divide and conquer’ approach to window cleaning. One of the guys was cleaning the kitchen windows while another took the upstairs bathroom windows (just above and to the right of the conservatory – on viewing from the garden) and he was just pissing himself so much that he just about fell off his ladder. And then I noticed that they were there and I was being watched. So I went and hid in the downstairs toilet because there are no windows in there, which leaves me free to curl up in the corner and rock, murmuring crazy things to myself if I so wished. I didn’t, but I wouldn’t put it past me.
Back to exams, Blodge was on Monday, Units 2 and 3. Who WASN’T dreading Unit 2 – the longest, dreariest and most random selection of subjects – everything from the cardiac cycle to transport of water in plants, to reproduction of humans and plants to the structure and function of the ileum. Um, yeah, makes sense? And if that wasn’t bad enough, the mark schemes are evidently written by stoners because even if you know everything there is to know about a subject, you do have to put little statements into your answer which really have nothing to do with the exam question, let alone actually answer the question. So it’s been tough, but I had a really strong feeling (which I called my premonition, simply because it sounded a little more glam) that Unit 2 would be okay and it would be Unit 3 (the easy topic) that would be the secret, sneaky little bastardy one.
I was right. But I think I blagged my way through it okay, so we’ll see.
Then, Tuesday I took a trip to Derby Moor to see Hilly who had escaped through the cracks in the floor, probably. Or perhaps he was lynched by the evil Year 8s, who knows? Either way, he wasn’t there, apparently. I walked up to the sixth form centre looking super cool in shades, jeans and other clothes and saw Mr Kilgour and Mr Beharall talking outside the doors, so I stood and loitered, waiting for them to finish, which took some time. Loitering any time after about ten seconds does halve your coolality and every subsequent five seconds will also bisect it again. Ultimately, by the end, I should have been about as cool as Cilla Black is sexy, but somehow I managed to survive. Mr Beharall stopped in the middle of his chat to say, ‘Natalie, don’t worry. We haven’t forgotten you,’ to which I became somewhat confused that he knew my name as I have spoken to Mr Beharell exactly NIL times but meh. Eventually I got to speak to Mr Kilgour and asked him where the staff room was. He took me there, but not before showing me how camp he really is. When we walked (I say ‘we’ but you’ll see that only one of us ‘walked’) up the steps of Derwent, he took the lead and literally did this really gay little skippy, prance up the steps. I have to say, I wasn’t that surprised. I mean, the guy bums James Blunt. He’d be the guy at the gigs in the center of the jostling, shifting crowd, staring, staring, staring with a mixture of admiration, awe and lust.
I ended up talking to Mr Hayer the Chemistry teacher who is infinitely cooler than Mr Kilgour.
The Chemistry exams were on Wednesday. Units 2 and 3. Unit 2 was surprisingly pleasant and as was Unit 3. But I think the grade boundaries will go up because they weren’t papers full of buggery. When I saw Dilly after the exam, he asked me what I thought about it. I said, struggling with his car door, ‘It was fine. There was only one mechanism though.’ And then he looked insulted and a little upset. I don’t blame him, I felt the same way. He’s been teaching us mechanisms until we were both blue in the face and then the simplest one comes up. I’m sure his heart broke into pieces when he heard the news from me. He was odd though, he got me to come over to his car to tell him this news while I was on my way home with a series of horn pips and mad waving. Y’know, as you do…
I saw Verity yesterday and we had a good time doing not a whole lot and watching stand up comedy. Eddie Izzard and Dylan Moran are effortlessly amazing and I love them. Highly quotable, too. Some quotes should not be said in public, however. I shall have a try though and see what results I get. Walk through town and say, ‘I’m covered in beeees!’
It could work.
And then just tonight I went bowling with the guys after a long cycly-walky thing with Clem, James and Tindy. The bowling included the aforementioned, Lizzie, Fido, Joe P and, unfortunately, Matt.
To be honest, it was a good night but not blog worthy. And I’m tired now. I will however mention Ben before I go. Just quickly. I sorta found him very recently and he’s very cool and witty and smart and funny and all that jazz. This isn’t supposed to be a suck-up, but I just thought I’d give him a mention, not because he reads my blog, but because he’s just a very nice guy and if he does read this, he will know what I truly think of him. I am surprised I haven’t bored or weirded him out yet though. Perhaps he’s just really polite.
Eating/Drinking water.
Hearing Guillemots – Little Bear
Dreamt about nothing particularly last night, but I had an interesting dream the other night. I have been tortured greatly by a gang of magpies hanging out in the tree outside my bedroom window. They are loud and they have been driving me mad. Especially since they do their aggrivating clicky noice an awful lot between 4.30am and 7.30am which is prime sleeping time. So, I had my window open, and in that state beween sleep and wakefulness, I thought there was a magpie trying to get in my window (I was slightly awoken by the racket they were making) and so I shut my window. Then, my dad came in the room and started rummaging through my curtains and then threw a rather slimy, moudly looking thing across the room with a hearthearted splat. It was a very dead bird. It was all decaying and generally just gross and it had landed on a piece of A4 lined paper. We then tipex-ed over it. Then I woke up and noticed my window was shut and my windowsill behind my cutains was discoloured (actually from bleached and unbleached parts of the paint due to things blocking the sunlight and stuff) and I was confused to how much of the dream was true. I feel the tipex-ed dead bird didn’t really happen though, thank God.
Currently reading Actually. Nothing. I may cry.
Present MSN name Believing the lie that time will heal all wounds -- which is just a nice way of saying that time deadens us.
Talking to Ben
Last text from Fido
Word of the Day bees
I am about to write THE most boring blog post in the history of blogging.
Because I am going to tell you about my exams. Those who suffer from examaphobia may leave now at the exits marked ‘Multiple choice question: pick a door – A or B?’
I have finished all my exams now. Psychology was the opening exam and it wasn’t too bad, but I don’t think it was that nice either. Then followed English Lit and as much as I love the subject, I can never tell how I’ve done. Sometimes when I try reeeeaaally hard, I get the arsiest (I’m writing this on MS Word and ‘arsiest’ is apparently a word, heehee) mark, yet, and the example was my essay review on Memento for my Drama piece for English at GCSE – I spent maybe two hours writing it with no plans and no rewrites and it got full marks, top A* and all the English teachers drooled over it calling it ‘genius’. It’s not a bad piece of writing, but I don’t really see what’s ‘genius’ about it or perhaps I’m in a state of modest denial.
It’s just like how I’m in denial about the recent dancing madly around the house to this dire song that I’m listening to a lot in this day an age, that is so… catchy and happy that it’s impossible to really like: The Magic Position by Patrick Wolf. Yes, I know. The dancing wasn’t the problem, but I was in the conservatory when the window cleaners rolled up and did their ‘divide and conquer’ approach to window cleaning. One of the guys was cleaning the kitchen windows while another took the upstairs bathroom windows (just above and to the right of the conservatory – on viewing from the garden) and he was just pissing himself so much that he just about fell off his ladder. And then I noticed that they were there and I was being watched. So I went and hid in the downstairs toilet because there are no windows in there, which leaves me free to curl up in the corner and rock, murmuring crazy things to myself if I so wished. I didn’t, but I wouldn’t put it past me.
Back to exams, Blodge was on Monday, Units 2 and 3. Who WASN’T dreading Unit 2 – the longest, dreariest and most random selection of subjects – everything from the cardiac cycle to transport of water in plants, to reproduction of humans and plants to the structure and function of the ileum. Um, yeah, makes sense? And if that wasn’t bad enough, the mark schemes are evidently written by stoners because even if you know everything there is to know about a subject, you do have to put little statements into your answer which really have nothing to do with the exam question, let alone actually answer the question. So it’s been tough, but I had a really strong feeling (which I called my premonition, simply because it sounded a little more glam) that Unit 2 would be okay and it would be Unit 3 (the easy topic) that would be the secret, sneaky little bastardy one.
I was right. But I think I blagged my way through it okay, so we’ll see.
Then, Tuesday I took a trip to Derby Moor to see Hilly who had escaped through the cracks in the floor, probably. Or perhaps he was lynched by the evil Year 8s, who knows? Either way, he wasn’t there, apparently. I walked up to the sixth form centre looking super cool in shades, jeans and other clothes and saw Mr Kilgour and Mr Beharall talking outside the doors, so I stood and loitered, waiting for them to finish, which took some time. Loitering any time after about ten seconds does halve your coolality and every subsequent five seconds will also bisect it again. Ultimately, by the end, I should have been about as cool as Cilla Black is sexy, but somehow I managed to survive. Mr Beharall stopped in the middle of his chat to say, ‘Natalie, don’t worry. We haven’t forgotten you,’ to which I became somewhat confused that he knew my name as I have spoken to Mr Beharell exactly NIL times but meh. Eventually I got to speak to Mr Kilgour and asked him where the staff room was. He took me there, but not before showing me how camp he really is. When we walked (I say ‘we’ but you’ll see that only one of us ‘walked’) up the steps of Derwent, he took the lead and literally did this really gay little skippy, prance up the steps. I have to say, I wasn’t that surprised. I mean, the guy bums James Blunt. He’d be the guy at the gigs in the center of the jostling, shifting crowd, staring, staring, staring with a mixture of admiration, awe and lust.
I ended up talking to Mr Hayer the Chemistry teacher who is infinitely cooler than Mr Kilgour.
The Chemistry exams were on Wednesday. Units 2 and 3. Unit 2 was surprisingly pleasant and as was Unit 3. But I think the grade boundaries will go up because they weren’t papers full of buggery. When I saw Dilly after the exam, he asked me what I thought about it. I said, struggling with his car door, ‘It was fine. There was only one mechanism though.’ And then he looked insulted and a little upset. I don’t blame him, I felt the same way. He’s been teaching us mechanisms until we were both blue in the face and then the simplest one comes up. I’m sure his heart broke into pieces when he heard the news from me. He was odd though, he got me to come over to his car to tell him this news while I was on my way home with a series of horn pips and mad waving. Y’know, as you do…
I saw Verity yesterday and we had a good time doing not a whole lot and watching stand up comedy. Eddie Izzard and Dylan Moran are effortlessly amazing and I love them. Highly quotable, too. Some quotes should not be said in public, however. I shall have a try though and see what results I get. Walk through town and say, ‘I’m covered in beeees!’
It could work.
And then just tonight I went bowling with the guys after a long cycly-walky thing with Clem, James and Tindy. The bowling included the aforementioned, Lizzie, Fido, Joe P and, unfortunately, Matt.
To be honest, it was a good night but not blog worthy. And I’m tired now. I will however mention Ben before I go. Just quickly. I sorta found him very recently and he’s very cool and witty and smart and funny and all that jazz. This isn’t supposed to be a suck-up, but I just thought I’d give him a mention, not because he reads my blog, but because he’s just a very nice guy and if he does read this, he will know what I truly think of him. I am surprised I haven’t bored or weirded him out yet though. Perhaps he’s just really polite.
posted by ReddPhoenix at 1:12 AM
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