I have resorted to taking IQ tests to make myself feel better about not having the notes to do the mechanics homework.

If I tell Mrs W that I took a test that got me invited to that highiqsociety.org thing, do you think she'll let me off when I can't do the exam?

Hmm... maybe.

Urgh, ofsted starts tomorrow. Joy of all joys.
I hope Mrs Psycho W gets fired for her crap teaching.
I mean...

Turkish man: Hello
Me: Hello
Turkish man: how old are you?
Me: 17
Turkish man: :D have you got a boyfriend?
Me: Yes. No. Maybe.
Me: Have you?
Turkish man: ...

*some time later*

Same Turkish man: So you have webcam yet?
Me: Can you read?
Me: *block*


Are these people thick or what? Why do I keep getting messages asking me about my webcam? Why?
Even after I put a bloody sign up saying "Don't ask me for my webcam." ?
*sigh*


In other news, I shut my finger in a car door on the 6mm edge of a piece of MDF earlier.
It's numb and swollen now. My mum says it's going to cane like a motherbitch what I start to be able to feel it again.
It caned like a motherbitch when I did it. I yowled for five whole minutes (well... nearly that long). There's a chunk of skin missing from my swollen numb scaley finger.

Yes, I just called my finger scaley.

I think I have some psych. homework to do for Mrs Dumbface. I mean Mrs W. I really can't be bothered. It's not like she can read anyway, so she won't know if I hand her a printed sheet all about the russian revolution. She'll hand it back in a couple of days (or even minutes, right then) and tell me that that wasn't what she meant, get it right next time please.

I want my mp3 player. I'd fill it with msi and spend monday psych. listening to gee-tar ataris porn.

Currently ficcing.

muggle appreciation week is being application shared with bob over msn. How exciting!

I'm nearly done with this fucking art unit.

Okay, so i'm not, but now I have MDF. All I have to do is a few more pages of bookwork, get it up to 21, and then some end pieces. One is gonna be an abstract expression with traditional imagary in significant areas (Narcissus, who else), and one is gonna be some kind of echo as a reflection as a something or other.

There'll prolly be caves involved.

That will wrap this unit up as nice and 2D, which means I can do proper 3D for the Human Form unit, which means clay heads and wire frames.

2 weeks to go! I get to mark my own work over the weekend. I'm going to be incredibly harsh, so that whatever the actual markers give me will be either expected or a nice surprise.

I found a purple and orange top in my room.

I have never seen this item before. It's not my sisters. My mum wouldn't wear something that bright that isn't pink. I should hope it isn't my dads, as it's all girly looking. I've never seen it on any of my friends, either.

Well, maybe my room went shopping.

Last time I wasn't walking zur Schule:

Me: *texts Nosh, entire day in advance*
Nosh: *doesn't look at phone*
Bob: *calls* Okay, text ME next time.

This morning:

Me: *texts Bob*
Nosh: *calls* Are you walking?
Bob: Get well soon, feel bad 'cus you're leaving me in Englo!


It's like playing guess who, only different and with text messages.

I do feel better. This is probably because I haven't tried to do anything.
I only got up because Archers, being the pleasant good-natured friendly fluffball he is, scratched me in the eye and I had to get up to run after him screaming.
I have a puffy scratch thing. I look like a pirate that's really a girl who got scratched in the eye by her cat.

I'm going to paint something using violent oranges and black.

I found out that Leanne Battings middle name is Violet. Why the hell didn't we know this last year!?

I... spent all day... doing work...

I swear i'm only here until the printer finishes printing. It's only got about 7 more pages.

I think i'm gonna die of excessive brain activity. This is worse than exercize. Art makes me so hungry!

I love the people that think they know it all, and then try to make “well informed” points about it. I love them. I could collect them. If it was legal, I’d net them as they walked past on the street, and then keep them in boxes, occasionally lifting the lids to coo at them, and ask them for their opinions on complex issues (euthanasia, politics, squash), write down their responses, and use them for humorous MSN nicks.

Thinking like this does have it’s down points.

It is actually very illegal to collect people (even brainless dorks who’s sole purpose screams ‘novelty wrap me!’).

That does make me sad sometimes, but being a general optimist, I try and work my way around it with thoughts of the 22nd century, when maybe I will be world King, and can change the law.




Today was quite boring. Therefore...

Yesterday, I didn't go to work. I got a nice text off Grasyceyssye saying not to. So I spent the day in bed, and then I got up and went shopping.

I bought an angora sweater. What the hell's angora? Isn't that like goat? I'm going to wear a goat.
I also bought a dress. And a skirt. And I was going to buy some more boots, but my mum says i'm spending "too much money on crap" again. It doesn't count as crap if i'm going to wear it more than once (and in public, I spose).

I read an essay on why McGonnagal's Cool, and I read a fic called Draco Malfoy, ruler of the Universe, which Bob must read.
I also read a fic about a gay bar.
There was swooning involved.

I noticed a few days ago that swoon rhymes with my name (well, it doesn't, but it rhymes with what I get called). Could this be a sign? It's clearly the Cosmos, trying to tell me something.
Something mysterious.

Look deep and uncover the hidden meaning in the following poem (style = personal favourite, cat in the rain):-

I can't be bothered to get up tomorrow.
School is tomorrow.
School is why I can't be bothered to get up.
Tomorrow is school.
I haven't done homework.
At school we get homework.
I haven't done it.
Homework to my do I can't be bothered.


That last sentance can be cunningly rearranged.

Well, today was pretty good.

First of all, I had a seedy sanchez pot noodle for lunch.

Then... and this may have been yesterday, i'm not too sure, I find out I didn't fail the maths test (and came 3rd or 4th WITH THE SAME SCORE AS RUSTY)...

And then Mr Conway ends my day by telling me that i'm talented, and that my coursework is good, and that I can reach what he thinks is my potential grade if I do this and this and this. And then he gave me a book with some stuff to read in.

And THEN I got insulted by a little twerp off the berkely vale bus on the way home ("lesbian!"), and then my mummy seemed to be having a "appreciate daughter" evening and keeps telling me good stuff.

Good stuff about me, to clarify.

So, if you're a glorified (and shameless) narcissist (aka me), today was pretty good.

Guess who started talking to me on msn?

None other than the infamous PenGroin!

"rite........duno wat to say now just tryin to think if i kno u!.... wait i swear u came to a party of mine a while back"

That was a couple of years ago dear.

What was greatest about talking to PenGroin though, was this line:

"keepin it real."

... I had no idea real people said stuff like that! *swoons*

Who is Tori Pullin? Apparently it's harsh that I don't know her personally. Personally.
...I had no reason to put that in italics.

I should really get on with Muggle Appreciation Week, but looking for mp3 players and attempting to download every NIN song in existence (there're a fair few) is just too involving.

Hello.
My name is Coldie Mc Headache-Blueface.

It's bloody freezing in here, but there's a shower thing in the living room, a whole bunch of crap in the kitchen, a jungle of plumbing all over the bathroom, and every other room of the house (including my bedroom) is even colder.
And my head hurts.

*whine whine whine*

Having not put my clocks back (and therefore living an hour ahead of everyone else) I think I shall go to bed nice and early. Also, I will wake up at my 7am, and beat Bob to Noshies in the morning. Yup.

I ate perfitaroles. I have no idea how to even begin to attempt to spell perfitarole professionally, so I won't bother.

Off I go to put another duvet on my bed ^_^

My diary is being exported.
Does this mean i'm blogging now? w00t.

I'm writing a new fic called Muggle Appreciation Week. Bob came up with the idea, but she's doing Englo coursework right now, so i'm writing it out.

It's going to have about three nice plot lines, so that I can confuse the reader. A confused reader is a reader more likely to believe that I am writing quality fanfiction :D

I posted my own Englo coursework on Something Blue... that's the first draft. I've got a bazillion ideas for the next fifteen drafts if I keep that bit of coursework, so hopefully not too much thinking'll have to be done.

I'm wearing a man shirt. I probably smell, because this is what I slept in last night. Never mind.

My life is so hectic.

First I get online at 15:42, and get told that LO AND BEHOLD, I must be at Noshi's between 4 and 5, giving me not very long to.. well.. get ready.

Secondly, Bob is messing with my head. First she's talking about me all over the place (and you know what kinds of impressions that gives off) and then I ask her politley if, you know, *wiggley eyebrows*, and she says "hahaha you wish" just like that.

I name and shame [MageyDePink] as a mind messer.
My mind feels so messed with *mind messed face*

I'm so interesting they should write a book about me and my life.

I had a dream about Harry Potty characters last night.
No, not a pervey dream, you pervy bastards, actually, it was about ketchup O_O
I'm going to tell Buzwam about it as punishment for her mind games.

Last night me, [MageyDePink] and [nori] went out with the evil pinkies security guards.

Tragically, it was dead boring, apart from the occasional interesting bits, like glam rock and the occasional nifty one liner.


Well, okay, it wasn't dead boring. It was just a bit quieter and less full of stuff to do that would have been wickido funo. But then, that's entirely my fault, because I didn't play lots of pool and I didn't get up and boogie or go in the Union.

Which, by the way, we're apparently going to be doing at some point whenever we next feel like tarting ourselves up in all our chavvy gear (we will have chavvy gear by then. Me and Bob are going to say FU! to this giant "individualist" trend, and dress like total chavs. I hate the H&M thing. I hate that everyone wears the same stuff and claims that this makes them different. Ah well.) ... and we're also going to start raving, because none of us do any exercize. Raving is good for you.

Today we went shopping! I nearly missed the bus. We went to watch a sharks tale... which was pretty nifty. I bought a dress. Nosh took us into Thorntons.

ME AND BOB GOT DIGIVICES. No... what're they called? D-thingies. The thing you scan stuff with and it tells you what it'll digivolve to (and what it's called, and blah blah blah) and it had a DIGI CODE ALPHABET on the flip lid.

Soon we will have digivices. Bob is my digimon. I'm going to make her digivolve.

I will be digi-chav.

My hair is still purple.

I can taste the chlorine in this water. The water company is having a laugh O_O
I'm thirsty though.
Ah well.

I dyed my hair purple. Yep.

Also, my sister is here with Gemma. They're being lame on the sims 2. Is that really interesting to do any other time than when you're bored off your face and feel like controlling some other people for a change?

I have nine inch nails on. Nice And Loud. The expressions on their faces imply that they think this music is crap. What blasphemists. I said "don't blaspheme." So they were warned, and can't blame me when they wake up in hell.

I'm dead bored. Bob, where the hell are you?

I'm going to ring you in a bit. Or maybe more like later. Because I don't have a clue what's happening tonight and I have to come home at some point so Graces dad can pick me up for work in the morning O_O

Catch the emphasised semantic, anyone?
(I read Mort while my hair was dying.)

(...This is what i'm reduced to.)

Ohmygod!

Ginny Weasley writing in Riddle's diary: Metaphory for the dangers of the internet?

If you make friends with people you can't see, you will be attacked by a basilisk! Yes.

...Craposa. I'm going to steal my sisters mini mirror to look around all the corners at school tomorrow.

Taken numerically:
(Like, Monday is 70, Tuesday would be 90 and ect)...

Sunday + Friday + Tuesday = 2 Thursdays + Friday –Tuesday.

This means that…

Sunday + Friday + 2 Tuesdays = 2 Thursdays + Friday

Take out the Fridays of the week, and

Sunday + 2 Tuesdays = 2 Thursdays



From this, it’s presumable that half a Sunday plus a Tuesday would be the equivalent of One Thursday.

Therefore:

It’s generally better to get things done on a Thursday, rather than procrastinate about them in your frees on Tuesdays and your extended bed times on Sundays.

The numbers know their stuff.

Urgh, why does this stuff always happen to me at the weekend?

I wrote some english coursework. It was all about a girl to took ipecac to make herself throw up and ended up in an ambulance. The commentary was harder and I still haven't finished it.

Twenty minutes after I wrote it, I threw up in the bin. Yes, gross.
I sorta wondered if my coursework came back to get me.

Then I timed out and abandoned Bob on msn, and now she hates me *sob*

So I went to bed, and then got out of bed and threw up again.
Then I read Neverwhere and fell in love with de Carabas, because he's an idiot and it's funny. Is his name Carabas? I'm fell so far in love with him, I can't even remember his name this morning.

So yeah, today I feel like shit, and I can't eat anything because i'll just throw it back up.
I'll be fine on Monday. Pssh. God.

There's a giant raven sat on my fence. Archers is eyeing it ominously. Problem is, it's about as big as him, so if he decides to attack it it's beak is like the size of one of his feet... Archers is going to be in trouble.
I might yell out the window and warn him that the bird is a bit too big for his meager gob, and that he should leave it alone. Or I might just watch.

I'm so bored! Why can't someone interesting come online?
In a minute i'll start... doing homework, or something.
O_O

Christio almightio on a pushio bike at high speedios... it's cold!

Today, [MageyDePink]y face deserted me. That meant I got to spend the day with... well... everyone else.

Me and Nosh bunked ICT KS. We got yellow forms, and a stern look from Mrs N. hahahaha... I hate key skills.
I need a jumper! It's such a disgusting temperature. 10 degrees, is what the weatherman said. I don't know if that's true right now, but it's bloody cold, and it's annoying me.
I took my own temperature, just for shits and giggles, and i've gone down a whole degree celcius since ever. Now i'm 38!
If I keep this up, I should eventually reach 36 degrees of normality aged 34. Because 34 is 17x2, and if it took 17 years to go from 39-40 to 38, then surely twice my age... I think I have some maths homework to do. Ah well.

If my word is bible (like the things Mr Conway gave us today... yeah Bob, you missed out on the Bible... of writing commentaries) then I should be 102 years old when my temperature turns 33 degrees, which is technically too cold to live.
If nothing else makes me die before then, I only have to wait untill 102 before my declining temperature decides it's death time.

I really hope something else kills me before then. I hate being hot. I'll probably hate being cold.
What am I saying?

I feel like sitting in bed and doing maths homework whilst watching something educational (like a Bruce Lee movie, or Alice in Wonderland, or something with crazy people in) and eating marshmallows.
I might do that as soon as I can be bothered to get my ass out of the chair.

It's cold. I need a jumper.
Brrrrrrrrrr.

BRRRR... ooooh and I have the Pulp Fiction soundtrack! How marvy.

Read: [MageyDePink]'s entry for today.

I'm going mad.
Slowly, but surely, i'm being metaphorically driven along this metaphorical road. Metaphorically speaking, i'm trying to write something. With a metaphorical pencil. But, the road has suddenly developed a chronic case of bump-syndrome. And, recently, the bumps have been getting worse and worse, to the point of my pencil threatening to snap and all these scribbles flailing all over my page.

Does the metaphor make sense?

Here's another one.

When I yell at you, yes I can help it, no it's not my mental problem that's making me do it. If I yell at you, it's because i'm annoyed. Or pissed off. Or generally not happy with something you are doing.

Okay, so that wasn't really a metaphor. But it was entirely true, and entirely agreed with by none other than overdramatic Bob herself.

By the way, Bob takes drama. Bob is sometimes loud. She is often funny. This does not make her over dramatic.

Well... um... I went to the salon this afternoon.

I seriously needed some downtime after what I was putting up with after work, so I had my hair cut and tipped purple. It's above my shoulders and nice and choppy :) and now I don't have to brush it every two seconds for it not to look like...a...um... messy thing.

Yay for new hair. Now I want some shoes.

7, 8, 9

I'm so boooored.
Really speaking I should be doing some work or something. Ideally, right now, I should be doing something productive like reading a book, watching CB, or doing some work.
Am I doing anything anywhere related to any of these most excellent choices of obvious activity?

1, 0, 1, 1, good-bye!

I think entirely no. Somewhat sad that is.

Maybe i'll go and draw something, as I haven't drawn anything quarterly decent pressing a week and a half. Maybe i'll have a bath. Maybe i'll run a bath, and put some bubbles and a duck in it, and then leave it there to bedazzle the next person who walks in the bathroom.

It would be hard to take the bath out of the bathroom. I imagine it'd be attatched to just where it is with all kinds of pipes and plumbing, not to mention the grouting, and some nails that keep it from sliding around on the floor.

Maybe i'll go investigate bathroom plumbing. Maybe i'll learn Russianette Vocabulary, and annoy the hell out of everyone with my new lingo. Maybe i'll waste time sitting here poking all the keys will excessive force because i'm bored.