La la la. Look, once again myself [MageyDePink] and [nori] are sat in the office ficcing and doing nothing really in the almost wee hours of the morning. With green tea. Soon we will have pizza. And then my parents will come home and say "be quiet" and perhaps be drunk. Well, as my mother has been gone far longer than the intended "half hour" my dad has probably either got her drunk, or... umm... I can't think of anything else (short of blackmail, bribery and fascination with Old Punk Eddies wedding mullet) that would have kept her there.

The pizza isn't done yet.

Someone wrote:

A minister's son from Simljan in Austria-Hungary, you were precocious from an early age. At three you could multiply three-digit numbers in your head and calculate how many seconds visitors to your home had lived. In awe of your older brother Dane, you shot a pea-shooter at his horse, causing it to throw him and inflict injuries from which he later died. This tragedy haunted you ever after. You frequently suffered bouts of illness with hallucinations throughout your life. During one affliction of cholera, you encountered the writing of Mark Twain, with whom you were later to be close friends. Later, another, this time mystery, illness inexplicably heightened your senses to a painful extent, only relenting when you hit upon the idea of the alternating current motor.

You developed an aversion to human contact, particularly involving hair, and a fear of pearls; when one would-be lover kissed you, you ran away in agony. Later, you insisted that any repeated actions in your day-to-day life had to be divisible by three, or, better yet, twenty-seven. You would, for example, continue walking until you had executed the required number of footsteps. You refused to eat anything until you had calculated its exact volume. Saltine crackers were a favourite for their uniformity in this respect. In the midst of important work, you forgot trivial details such as eating, sleeping or, on one memorable occasion, who you were.

Your inventions, always eccentric, began on a suitably bizarre note. The first was a frog-catching device that was so successful, and hence so emulated by your fellow children, that local frogs were almost eradicated. You also created a turbine powered by gluing sixteen May bugs to a tiny windmill. The insects panicked and flapped their wings furiously, powering the contraption for hours on end. This worked admirably until a small child came along and ate all the creatures alive, after which you never again touched another insect.

Prompted by dreams of attaining the then-ridiculed goal of achieving an alternating-current motor, you went to America in the hope of teaming up with Thomas Edison. Edison snubbed you, but promised fifty thousand dollars if you could improve his own direct-current motor by 20% efficiency. You succeeded. Edison did not pay up. It was not long until you created an AC motor by yourself.

Now successful, you set up a small laboratory, with a few assistants and almost no written records whatsoever. Despite it being destroyed by fire, you invented the Tesla Coil, impressing even the least astute observer with man-made lightning and lights lit seemingly by magic. Moving to Colorado Springs, you created a machine capable of sending ten million volts into the Earth's surface, which even while being started up caused lightning to shoot from fire hydrants and sparks to singe feet through shoes all over the town. When calibrated to be in tune with the planet's resonance, it created what is still the largest man-made electrical surge ever, an arc over 130 feet long. Unfortunately, it set the local power plant aflame.

You returned to New York, incidentally toying with the nascent idea of something eerily like today's internet. Although the wealthiest man in America withdrew funding for a larger, more powerful resonator in short order, it did not stop you announcing the ability to split the world in two. You grew ever more diverse in your inventions: remote-controlled boats and submarines, bladeless turbines, and, finally, a death ray.

While whether the ray ever existed is still doubtful, it is said that you notified the Peary polar expedition to report anything strange in the tundra, and turned on the ray. First, nothing happened; then it disintegrated an owl; finally, reports reached you of the mysterious Tunguska explosion, upon which news you dismantled the apparatus immediately. An offer during WWII to recreate it was, thankfully, never acted upon by then-President Wilson. Turning to other matters, you investigated the forerunner of radar, to widespread derision.

Your inventions grew stranger. One oscillator caused earthquakes in Manhattan. You adapted this for medical purposes, claiming various health benefits for your devices. You found they let you work for days without sleep; Mark Twain enjoyed the experience until the sudden onset of diarrhoea. You claimed to receive signals in quasi-Morse Code from Mars, explored the initial stages of quantum physics; proposed a "wall of light", using carefully-calibrated electromagnetic radiation, that would allegedly enable teleportation, anti-gravity airships and time travel; and proposed a basic design for a machine for photographing thoughts. You died aged 87 in New York, sharing an apartment with the flock of pigeons who were by then your only friends.

Ridiculed throughout your life (Superman fought the evil Dr. Tesla in 1940s comics), you were posthumously declared the father of the fluorescent bulb, the vacuum tube amplifier and the X-ray machine, and the Supreme Court named you as the legal inventor of the radio in place of Marconi. Wardenclyffe, the tower once housing your death ray, was dynamited several times to stop it falling into the hands of spies. It was strangely hard to topple, and even then could not be broken up.

You are Nicola Tesla, inventor of the Tesla Coil!

I write: Oh my holy pony with an electrical lightbulb and an inventor who wouldn't pay up that 50 grand! How on earth did they find out that that was me? *awed face*

Congratulations, you're ebola!

You start, innocently enough, with a headache; a fever; chills. Nothing special. Might as well be the flu. But that is only the beginning.

You move on through the unpleasant symptoms list, inducing vomiting, abdominal pain and diarrhea. You start to shut down the kidney and liver, and start to cause bleeding both internally and externally, with little or no clotting. Finally, the patient crashes and bleeds out, in a veritable explosion of blood. Anyone who has contact with that blood, or any of the patient's body fluids while s/he is infected, is also liable to get you. Now that's what I'm talking about!

If you wish, you can proudly tell the world that it could only take forty eight hours to infect everybody in the developed world with the following fine graphic:



http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/affliction/

mmm.

Hey, i'm bored.

:Name: Mooney
:Does your name mean anything?: I.. err..
:Were you named after anyone?: Really, Leonie was the name of some chick in some book who had ginger hair and married some rich dude in France where it was illegal to wear trousers and ride horses and marry rich dudes. And that's a true story.
:Nickname(s): Mooney, Mooners, Moon, Le, Leo, Neone
:Date of birth: 11th October '87
:Place of birth: Somewhere 'round here i'd spect
:Current location: Dursley
:Religion: Certainly not
:Height: 5'8"
:Shoe size: 7
:Hair color: Brown, with left over red and purple bits
:Eye color: Hazel
:What do you look like?: Well... I have this face, and two arms, and i'm not bald, so, kind of like... erm... yanno.
:Describe yourself in 5 words: consequentially vague and u n s p e c i f i c a l l y inconvinient
:What are your worst qualities: Really like long words
:What are your best qualities: I have really straight teeth

Do You Have...
:Any sisters: Uno
:Any brothers: Technically
:Any pets: Several... cats and chickens and stuff
:A disease: Not that i'm currently aware of
:A pager: nope
:A personal phone number: like a mobile?
:A leather jacket with studs on it: Uh hello it's 2005
:A heroin needle: No (shouldn't that really say "an insulin needle intended for use of diabetics you will be using for heroin" ? I didn't know you could buy them specifically!)
:A pool or hot tub: Have a pool, don't own it personally
:A Car: Don't drive

Describe Your...
:Personality: INTJ (carl jung type)
:Driving: Not backseat, that's for sure
:Car or one you want: A fast pretty one?
:Room: Purple, floor boards, fairy lights, too many posters... there's a bed in there somewhere
:School: Rednock... well I guess it has that science college thing going for it...
:Relationship with your parents: We ate dinner at the same table earlier, we're clearly very close
:Believe in yourself?: Hang on... these were "describe your" questions...
:Believe in love at first sight?: ... i've found a flaw O_O Nevermind. Bored I still am. Carry on I must.
:Consider yourself a good listener: Consider myself a selective listener ... but i'm alright at making people feel that i'm a good listener
:Consider yourself a good friend: Yes, actually
:Save your e-mail or conversations: Only 'cus they save themselves
:Pray: Can't really say I do
:Believe in reincarnation: I'd like to think not
:Like to make fun of people: Not really
:Like to talk on the phone: I hate the phone
:Like to drive: I don't drive
:Get motion sickness: Nope
:Dream in color: Most of the time
:Type with your fingers on home row: I don't quite get it...
:Sleep with a stuffed animal: Nope

What Was/Is (or Are)...
:Right next to you: coffee cup
:On your mouse pad: a jungle and a mouse
:Your dream car: err...
:Your dream date: Don't dream about dates, they get ruined
:Your dream honeymoon spot: That is a disgusting thing to ask this early in the relationship
:Your dream husband/wife: One who doesn't annoy me would be nice
:Your bedtime: Often involves me being tired, but not always
:Under your bed: Drawers. With underwear in. And some other stuff.
:The single most important question: That's racist i'm sure.
:Your bad time of the day: The bit where crap stuff is happening
:Your worst fear(s): Tell you I will and i'm sure they'll all come true.

Breakfast today: colselaw, coffee, and cheesecake.

Musical monday-day just took a distinctly 80's slant.

Once again, i'm really fucking bored.


If I was a profession I'd be: Terrorism (if you agree with it it's a bit controversial)
If I was a country I'd be: England (tempermental... nearly as fat as america but not quite)
If I was a ocean or body of water I'd be: Shallow and annoyingly chilly
If I was a piece of candy I'd be: bad for your teeth
If I was a famous building or piece of architecture I'd be: St Pauls... it was supposed to be religious but somehow it just ended up a bit weird
If I was a store I'd be: Cult (bit of everything but not really)
If I was a brand of shoe I'd be: shoddy
If I was a bad habit I'd be: scab picking
If I was a ice cream flavour I'd be: neopolitan
If I was a disease I'd be: manflu
If I was a board game I'd be: non-dictionary scrabble
If I was a feeling I'd be: extreme irritablity
If I was a president I'd be: unable to please everyone
If I was a city I'd be: amsterdam... maybe rome
If I was a colour I'd be: green or grey or a warped yet interesting mixture of both
If I was a celebrity I'd be: ang. jolie
If I was a movie I'd be: resovoir dogs (satire... irony...)
If I was a brand of toothpaste: non-foamey
If I was a business I'd be: short on money, actually
If I was a currency I'd be: GBPS
If I were a month, I'd be: october... maybe september
If I were a day of the week, I'd be: Tuesday (neon bay-bee)
If I were a time of day, I'd be: twighlight (most car crashes of the day happen about then)
If I were a planet, I'd be: pluto
If I were a direction, I'd be: west
If I were a piece of furniture, I'd be: interesting but not particularly functional
If I were a liquid, I'd be: marmite (obviously...)
If I were a tree, I'd be: barky
If I were a bird, I'd be: south for winter by now
If I were a tool, I'd be: a jack hammer
If I were a flower/plant, I'd be: a narcissus
If I were a kind of weather, I'd be: hurricane... not as exciting as a tornado, therefore less people like it
If I were a musical instrument, I'd be: a flute...
If I were an animal, I'd be: an abused cat, probably
If I were a vegetable, I'd be: radish
If I were a sound, I'd be: too loud
If I were an element, I'd be: air
If I were a car, I'd be: shiny
If I were a song, I'd be: uhh if I told you that you'd have to die
If I were a book, I'd be: Neverwhere
If I were a food, I'd be: sandwich pickle
If I were a material, I'd be: starchy
If I were a taste, I'd be: "different"
If I were a word, I'd be: Nonchalant
If I were a body part, I'd be: a collar bone
If I were a facial expression, I'd be: that one where you look away hoping people will take it as "i'm shy" rather than "your eye contact is freaking me out and i'm bored and you're ugly"
If I were a shape, I'd be: an irregular... thing with... a nine in it somewhere
If I were a number, I'd be: 9

My hand is officially swelled.

My fingers have turned into sausages!!!

...Okay, it's not that bad. But they've gone all puffy :(
My Mutti says i'm dehydrated, need sleep, don't go outside enough, and should take out all the coffee cups around the computer.
Yeah, I bet that'll fix my puffy sausage hand!
Nevermind.

Neverwhere!
Yay. Now I have to make Bob read it, and then all my friends (I only have two...) will have been INFECTED. And I can dance.

In other news, my schwestie has recently become obsessed with the Dresden Dolls. I need to learn to play the piano. Maybe I could trade in the treadmill on ebay...

RIP Dimebag, I guess.

Who the fuck goes to see a band just to shoot them?!
Stupid twat faced gunman.

The reports seem to agree that Vinnie is band member no 2 that is dead, but as no one knows for sure yet, I don't know what to say.

DEAD. God.
RIP Dimebag plus "unreleased band member".

One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you, don't do anything at all;
Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall.
And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall;
Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call;
To call Alice, when she was just small.
When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go;
And you've just had some kind of mushroom, and your mind is moving low;
Go ask Alice, I think she'll know.
When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead;
And the white knight is talking backwards;
And the red queen's off with her head;
Remember what the dormouse said,
Feed your head, feed your head
*jefferson airplane*
*yum yum yum*

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.