Thank you for the happy thoughts

It's not enough that every time I try to read a paper there is an article about the failing economy and recession and whatnot. If it's not something about the 13 year old boy who had a daughter who might possibly not be his. Or the crazy lady that gave birth to the octuplets. All positive news. Cheerful and delightful. So cheerful in fact, they make me want to bang my head against a wall. Nooooo, that couldn't possibly be enough. You had to ruin this one for me too, didn't you?

The one I'm talking about is my monthly chemistry magazine. It's a fun read. Stem cell this, molecule that, bonding there, blah-blah whatever. Not today. I get home and my magazine is waiting for me neatly in the postbox. I go throw a load of laundry in the machine and settle with a cup of tea in the kitchen, ready to be educated.

And then I see it. One article about how BPA(found in plastic bottles) will give us cancer. And then we'll die. Next page. Lab accident kills student. Next page. PFCs(found in food packaging, pesticides, clothing and upholstery) will cause infertility, liver problems and then give us cancer so that we die. Apparently we can't even smoke pot anymore.* Because we'll get testicular cancer and die. **

With all these wonderful articles, no wonder I was wondering about the kitchen, mumbling something about cancer. Which prompted my lovely friends to steal my magazine away from me before I decided to join a nudist colony and never use plastic anything again or sit on furniture. And start smoking weed. At least that's once cancer I can't get.

*not that I do. I'm just making a point.
**as you can see, it was a completely invalid point. Because I don't have testes.
***Also, I am aware the BPA debate has been going on for ages. It's still as depressing. I think I might have to start “Good news and puppies” weekly magazine. Just to cheer the world up.

Sheesh...Next you're going to tell me that watching Heroes will cause me to get cancer. And then die.

Why law is bad for you

Hello. Long time, no posts. I'd say something about school driving me crazy and leaving me with absolutely no free time but that would just be repetitive. True, but repetitive. So in the mean time, while I still try to get down a schedule(which as of now looks something like: uni, crash, do tons of homework, crash some more, curse repeatedly, take on a new project because maybe it just wasn't crazy enough, drink myself into oblivion when I find the time, bug flatmate about her eating habits, crash again) posts will be scarce. Quality over quantity, right?

Ok, so going back to my point. I will not whine about the fact that I have to take law classes. I have accepted that fact. Maturely. As in I whine in real life. Really, though, it's ridiculous. I have 3 law lectures a week and only 2 lectures for every one of my chem modules. And every other week I have the pleasure of having to go to a law seminar. Which wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to read a gazillion pages. So tonight, I bravely opened the article I was supposed to read and got exactly to page 2 before I got bored and went on Amazon. And then bad things happened. Because Amazon is an evil, evil place. I won't admit to how much money I spent(not that much, don't worry. I am not into thousand-pound shopping sprees. Really, it's under 100 quid. I will not have to eat pot-noodles for the rest of the year. And it was mostly on things I need. And maybe one or two for fun.). But still...law makes me do bad things. And the thought of having to spend another 30 quid on the fucking law book tomorrow makes me want to cry.

Oh, well. At least I have enough food for the rest of the week. Although my peanut butter tastes funny so I have to buy a new jar. And it was a brand new jar. *sigh* Such a waste, isn't it?

Walking in a winter wonderland

My dear England,

I like you. We're having fun. I sincerely hope that we last. But really now...get over yourself. It's just a bit of snow.

Wonder of wonders, it snowed in the Midlands. And by snow I mean about an inch. Nothing to worry about. That is if you're not confused about this whole thing, like England seems to be. Allow me to explain something: snow is just frozen rain. You seem to be perfectly acquainted with rain. Snow is not some evil monster. It's awesome. But an inch of snow is nothing to be worried about. So why in the name of love are we all going crazy about this?

You see...traffic was a bloody nightmare all week. The wee bit of snow caused an accident one morning so it took the blasted bus 20 minutes to get from my bus stop to the next(around ¼ of a mile). 20 bloody minutes! And then of course, everybody was going 10mph. On the perfectly good road. Because it was snowing.

My campus looked like a kindergarten all week. Snow fights, snow men, snow. Great! That's the spirit! Enjoy the snow...just don't enjoy in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, when people are trying to walk. Sidewalk. Side...walk. It's not called sideplay for a reason. So how about we move the playground in the giant park right next to the campus? That way we can all be happy.

And just for those who still seem confused about this whole snow thing, here are a few ways to enjoy it:
-snowball fights
-build a snowman(or a snowwoman)
-make snow angels
-chase the flakes around, trying to catch one with your nose or tongue
-stay outside until your hands and nose and cheeks are bright red, then go inside and snuggle with a warm blanket and some hot chocolate or tea.

And heavens help me, it's snowing again. One more week like this and I will kill someone.

Welcome to Birmingham...we have nothing

Maybe not nothing. They have a bull.

Exhibit A:

Also a giant building that looks like it's covered in silver M&M's.

Exhibit B:

And a church.

Exhibit C:

And some rather exposed manequins:

Exhibit D:

Ignore the weather. It's British.

For those of you wondering why in heavens I went to Birmingham, the answer is simple. The original manuscript for “On the road” was there on exhibition and since I only read the book like 100 times and am somewhat obsessed with it, I had to go see it. Had to. I would have taken pictures but it was a museum, and while it may as well be a very un-Beat-like thing to do, I had to respect the rules. And there were guards and other people there.

But it was amazing, the manuscript looks awesome and I actually saw Kerouac's scribbles and notes on it. Awe. I was in complete awe. You could even see the parts where the scrolls had been taped together. And I found my favourite passage in the manuscript, which was beyond cool.

They also had a collection of various editions from different countries. I'd be permanently indebted if someone could explain this one to me:

Kinda like a really bad 80's flick, isn't it? A 5-years-later reunion of Grease? Any other ideas? I am confused.

And on that note, I leave you.

"They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn..." s

In which I rant and whine(and organize an impromptu contest)

I hate exam week. With a burning passion. Whoever decided that we must have exams at the end of term is a sadist that would make even Sade weep in shame. For the last 3 days the only conversations I have had have been about exams. I am basically living on a diet of Red Bull, Pringles and peanut butter sandwiches. My bed looks like this:

It's sad. Painful. I want this bloody thing to be over already! I miss seeing people. Not feeling like my head will explode at any time. Having a drink without starting to ramble on about the oxidation of alcohols, preparation and that fucking H NMR. I hate NMR with a burning passion. If anyone can explain please do. I have given up. NMR sucks.

(For any normal person reading this, NMR is nuclear magnetic resonance, also known as nasty mangled rubbish. I am not particularly imaginative at this time of the night. If you can come with a better one, you get your very own special guest blog entry. Exciting.* I might even throw in a Twix bar. If I have any left).

And now if you will excuse me I must go and try to understand my notes. Kill me.

*I am serious about this. It doesn't happen often. Me being serious. So, go on, I am taking submissions. How would YOU like to be special guest star? Also, this contest wasn't planned when I started writing this entry. Hence the impromptu. And if I don't get any submissions I might cry. Baby, I am.

Oh, yeah…lesson learned!

So, first off, Happy New Year. This year I decided I am far less perfect then last year so I actually made a resolution. Which I promptly broke. It was to blog more. Alas, when the life gets boring the blog gets abandoned. Christmas was rather uneventful. I have been counting the days and hours left until I go back to England(which apparently is “so sad it’s cute” according to a friend).

But back to my original point. What lessons have I learned yesterday, kids? That just because you did something before and it turned out ok, it does not mean that it will work again. In fact, it probably won’t. The something I am talking about is dying my hair. So, for my use in the future, here are some rules:
1.Take your time. Rushing will cause awful consequences. See below.
2.Be careful when trying to tie your hair in a bun and wait for the dye to set it. Magenta stains on the ceiling are not pretty.
3.Also, be careful when untying said hair. Magenta stains on your mother’s good tablecloth are not pretty.
4.And in general, just be careful. When you have long hair you might try to wash your hair let’s say…oh, somewhere not in the bathtub. I now look like the pink version of the Incredible Hulk. Only with less muscles. And you know, female.
5.Trying to wash said pinkness off your body will not work. I am so not ready for bathing suit season. Thankfully it’s winter. And I don’t wear bathing suits. But if I did, it wouldn’t be pretty.

But let’s look on the bright side, shall we? At least I have awesome magenta hair lights again. And now if you’ll excuse me, I will go scrub myself some more. Would sulfuric acid be too much?

Of Charlie Brown-esque trees and whatnot

Blog roll post



As you can see the blog roll is alive again. Maybe now I will remember to post more. A snowball's chance in hell of that happening but I have hope. I am rather idiotic. So today's topic is Christmas memories.



Now, I love Christmas. Christmas Eve to be more exact. It the second best day of the year(after my birthday). What's not to like? There's food and chocolate and chocolate and more chocolate. Did I mention the chocolate? Every year we'd get a nice tree, then try to make the same old and tired string of lights work(seriously, the things are 35 years old. They don't work anymore. We still try them every year.). Of course, every year our nice tree always looks exactly like the Charlie Brown tree once we get it home. No problem, it's still loved. We also repeat this story every single year(seriously, if you haven't read it last year go do it now. It's awesome...but why trust me, after all I've written it! You should check it out. It's here)* And then we go on our merry(get it...merry? I kill me) separate ways. Too much family time can kill.



Ok, back on topic. Christmas memories. You see, I always had a Santa growing up. Some family friend would dress up as Santa and come to our house and make me tell him a poem or sing. It was nice. But fore some reason, the Christmas that sticks in my mind is the one 5 years ago. You see, for the 2 weeks prior to the day, I had been angry and sad. My boyfriend then had cheated on me, which is the-end-of-the-world, woe-is-me, what-ever-shall-I-do now for any respectable 16 year old girl. We had had a major blow-up on Christmas Eve. It was not good. So, that Christmas I went to my favourite pub and hung out with the bartender(a good friend), made fun of all the kids trying to sneak up and buy alcohol, laughed when the computer played the same stupid carol for the third time in an hour(it hated us. Really. It did.) and just relaxed. No stress, no fighting, no anger. And then the boyfriend came, apologized and all was good once more in the land of the repeating carols.


Before I go here is a picture of me and Santa!


(Warning: the following picture contains some nudity but is completely SFW).



(See what I mean about the tree? They all look so sad and pathetic).


I was not going to put my doll down! I did not trust that man! Evident in this picture:
Also, you can check out what other people had to say:
http://philangelus.wordpress.com/2008/12/25/weblog-tour-a-holiday-memory/
http://robandkrista.blogspot.com/2008/12/ding-dong-blog-rolls-back.html
http://dutifuldanielle.blogspot.com/2008/12/grandma-got-run-over-by-reindeer.html

*Excuse the oh, so subtle story placement. I like it. The story, not the placement. Did I mention you can check it out here?