The Day I Knew Fuck All About History
Added at 6:50am and filed under awesome, bits
There are kids on the train next to me. A history exam must be looming, for they’re both getting their knickers in a twist about WWII and European allies and … and some other things I don’t quite understand (I think one of them mentioned a canal). It’s kind of cute though; the nerdesque questioner is (rather smugly, actually) prodding and supporting his decidedly better-looking mate who, by the looks of things, is more concerned about tweaking his hair just so than revising.
Which is fair enough.
It’s hard not to lean over. It’s hard not to say hey, this exam today? IT IS NOT IMPORTANT. I know you think it’s important but I promise … it’s really not. I dropped History when I was 13 and it never did me any harm. Okay, so I’m not so hot when it comes to the yellow questions on Trivial Pursuit, but I still manage to earn £40+k a year without needing to know fuck all about the Suez Canal.
Comments: (5)
The Day With the Procrasination
Added at 6:04pm and filed under Corporate Puppet, Not impressed, Random Rant
I’m having one of those weeks where I have too much to do but – because of my recent tendency to procrastinate – I’ve now essentially run out of time to do it. Any of it. Ever.
What’s due? Let’s see. Two 3000 words assignments for my MSc. They’re due Monday and whilst I’ve written an essay plan for one, I’ve done fuck all else. They’re not even easy or familiar subjects that I can just try and blag my way through.
But wait – there’s MORE. The best bit is that I actually had a month’s extension following ill-health in April (don’t ask :( ), so even though I had an extra month, I’ve still left everything to the last minute. WTF? What a twat.
I’m also travelling up to North England tomorrow to speak at a conference. It’s only a ten minute slot, but there’ll be 200 people there and I still haven’t written – hell, even thought about – what I’m going to say. (Hopefully though, I think that this is one of those things I can blag. Fingers crossed).
And the best thing? Instead of doing any of those things RIGHT NOW, instead I’m sat here in front of my Macbook procrastinating my ass off some more.
Awesome.
Comments: (6)
The Day With the Week of Music
Added at 10:30am and filed under awesome
The Stereophonics were awesome. As expected. The hot summer air vibrated with guitar and drums late into the night, and this morning I am hoarse from my over-enthusiastic (and bad) singing. Despite sound problems (I don't think that the Albert Hall need be cowering about inaugural show at the Cardiff City Stadium - the acoustics and sound quality was shitorific) and an hour long - yes, I wrote HOUR LONG - queue for the bloody bar, it was a good night. As what always happens - as what happened Friday, actually, leaving the Crowded House concert - I left awash with renewed enthusiasm for the band(s), shocked that I hadn't listened to X album for ages, that I'd forgotten how gorgeous Y song was. And stood there, swaying along or clapping like a maniac, all these songs and lyrics came rushing back to my conscience with a vengeance. I think they were angry I'd let myself forget how awesome they were. Local Boy in the Photograph punched me in the guts.Dakota slapped me in the face. I think Same Size Feet actually knocked me out for a bit. I fell back in love with Kelly Jones. Yes, he's an unlikely crush - he's not even a DOCTOR OMG - but he's such a hunk of quiet, brooding, talented intensity. He strikes me as someone who'd be really good in bed. Maybe even a little bit dirty.
He grew up not far from me, and he's only a few years older. If fate had slapped me down a few miles to the west I could be Mrs. Jones now and know for myself just how dirty the sex could be. Fate's such a contrary fucker.
Anyway.
I say that I was stood there, but, technically, we were in the stands. We sit down at concerts these days, mainly because I'm a misanthropist with the tolerance of a sunburnt Nazi, but also because it was hot and sticky and I didn't particularly fancy spending the evening being drenched in watered-down beer and showering in someone else's sweat. It's a sign of getting old, I know, because even five years ago M and I would be in the thick of it, sniggering behind our hands and scoffing at the old fat bastards sitting down at a CONCERT. And despite the temperature, I still wore trainers because there's no way I was having fat, uncoordinated fuckers stamping on my teeny tiny toes all night. I wish I could feign embarrassment about this, but I can't, quite frankly; the place was full - FULL - of drunk people, a myriad of ages and stages of inebriation. It was ... awful. People pissing and puking everywhere, fighting, shoving. And yeah, I know I drink - a few glasses of wine at home occasionally, and a handful of lovely G&Ts on a night out perhaps - but I never get that drunk, not now, not ever. I can guarantee that at no point in my life has anyone seen my on my hands and knees in a car park, barfing, with my pink sequined WANNABE knickers halfway down my arse.
Yeah, I really saw that yesterday.
Crowded House was, of course, a much more classy affair. There were still drunk people there, but they were less obtrusive than those we witnessed yesterday, although that's possibly only because Friday was a workday so few had opportunity to devote an entire day to getting shitfaced. The place was surprisingly quiet; about eight seats to the right of us were entirely empty, yet the last time we'd seen them (about this time last year, I think) the arena was heaving. But E, who'd bought the tickets, had outdone herself by getting us tickets in the second row, a little to the right of center-stage. It was an awesome night, even if I was in the toilet when my favourite CH track - Distant Sun - came on.
By the way, I kind of fancy Neil Finn too. This is bizarre because - clearly - he's as different from Kelly Jones as you can get, but whilst I doubt Finn would be particularly badass in bed, he's the age where I suspect foreplay's magnificent and he'd kindly roll over and sleep in the wet patch.
Shall I leave it - and by it, my apparent sexual mid-life crisis - there?
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The Day with the Crap Day (6)
Let’s see … Son is a thug. Husband is a fucking prick. Boss is … well, a boss. Today has not been a good day.
The Day After my Birthday (5)
My birthday rocked. :) Despite S’s poorly eyes (he suffers severely with hayfever, and on Thursday and Friday he could barely open his eyes – no exaggeration – so swollen were they) and a clusterfuck of a hangover courtesy of D and a drunken night in the garden the night before, it was an almost [...]
The Day With the Craptastic Procrasination (8)
I’ve been rushed off my arse lately. June’s always one of those months when I’m all over the place, attending meetings and conferences across the UK, and this one’s been no exception. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks zig-zagging my way across the country and I’ve become oh-so-familiar with the failings of a takeaway [...]
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