10/10/05 06:14 pm - A Dream is a Wish Your Arse Makes
I'm really enjoying university this time around, which is fabulous. So far, my courses are interesting and I'm already feeling like a smart arse in my arts & media informatics class, since I completed our first assignment streets ahead of everybody else (while trying to go 'slowly' so as to appear as though I was really taking it all in). It's basic scripting, though, and I've done it all before. The stuff my tutor is covering right now is stuff I taught myself at least five years ago. I'm having fun getting back into it all, though.
I haven't been doing anything particularly exciting outwith work and university (which are, obviously, extremely gripping in their own, special ways). Work is ... fine. The same as it always is. I'm being made to wear a horrible royal blue baseball cap which I had retired months ago to the back of my wardrobe with all my other scary blunders in fashion (not that this one was my fault). However, now that my superviser is back from her (extended) maternity leave, doing a whopping 28 hours a week and managing to escape with only one weekend shift per week, it is being made clear that wearing this horrific hat is completely mandatory at all times. What fun. Other than the hat, it's fine. Fiona and I continue to dance around the kitchen to 80s classics while the guys out front complain that we're having too much fun. Yeah, well, unlike most of you, we're actually doing something productive -- it's just that we are fabulous and can multi-task. I love Fiona. She makes work (as much) fun (as possible). In between dancing to Men at Work, Gloria Gaynor, Michael Jackson, Kylie, Madonna and Bros, Fiona and I teamed up with Angela and Katie to work on our effort to list all the songs in the world in which the word 'heart' can successfully be replaced with the word 'arse'. In previous years, we have made dull days interesting by exchanging 'girl' for 'squirrel' (ie. Usher's You Remind Me ... of a squirrel that I once knew; Van Morrison's Brown Eyed Squirrel) and 'eyes' for 'boobs' (ie. Ultrabeat's Pretty Green Boobs; Frankie Valli's Can't Take My Boobs Off of You).
( It turns out that switching 'heart' for 'arse' is even more hilarious ...Collapse )
I went to the cinema twice last week, which is a record for me. I haven't been really into it in a long time. These days I tend to prefer to wait and rent movies when they become available on video. Natz and I went to see Pride & Prejudice, which was such a nice film. No tits, arses or questionable humour. I would say it'd be nice if all films were in the style of P&P, but then it'd take away the nice warm feeling I get when I leave the cinema after seeing such a film, with a rare pleasant feeling throughout. Keira Knightley was wonderful. The guy who played Mr Darcy was a little ... odd-looking (not so much in general; just when considering the part he was selected to play) and I think he overdid the moody thing just a tad but other than that, it was excellent. I then ruined it by going to see The Forty Year Old Virgin with Emma a couple of days later. It was actually very entertaining, despite my being sure that it would be shite before I'd even bought the tickets. Some of it was pretty predictable, but there were genuinely funny parts too.
As I had made it clear that I was suddenly in the mood to dance, Wednesday night, I ended up in Tunnel, after consuming a bottle of red wine and copius amount of fags (which was, presumably, what brought on said feeling). It was absolutely packed, and yet I still managed to run into an ex-workmate who lives in town now, and whom I can't stand. It obviously wasn't busy enough, then. She also managed to find me THREE subsequent times, despite my best efforts to hide in particularly over-populated areas of the club. She also insisted on swapping new numbers, but I just took hers and told her I'd give her a call 'sometime', so ... that's a bit of a relief. I had a good night, but I learned that it is most definitely true what they say about men: you wait and wait for silly amounts of time, and then they all come along at once. I was standing at one of the columns-cum-arm rest areas at the back of the club having a drink when this (blonde -- so something I'd tend to have to think about, anyway) guy came up to me and wanted to shake my hand. I thought it was rather an old-fashioned gesture for an underground club on gay night, but I obliged anyway, as anyone would do, and before I could even get a word in, he tried to kiss me. I pulled away, purely due to surprise, and he seemed offended, but kept pursuing it. I spent the rest of the night wiping my face with my hands -- handy tip for clubbers everywhere: do not attempt to move away too quickly when someone facially attacks you with their tongue. It only results in slobber. Honestly, if you're going to run up to total strangers and start kissing them without so much as an introduction, at least learn how to kiss first. Being attractive doesn't let you away with it, I'm afraid.