Ho hum.

Bonsoir. Je m'appelle Sinky. J'ai le Stink. Le Stink est per-me-ate-ed dans ma bod-ay.

The Leeds Lesbians own a dog called Scruffy. He is just that. (Un)Fortunately he adores me. Thus while I am sat typing this, he is almost on my head, licking inbetween my breasts, leaving a damp patch against my side from his damp, lake-water soaked body, breathing heavily as he gazes into my face. Clearly he is very attracted to me. I do not feel at my sexiest right now. I feel so invaded by his presence that I have taken on the persona of Stinky. He's the only offer I've had for a year so maybe I'll marry him. Stinky and Scruffy 4eva.

We went to Meadowhall today. It was busy. it made me cross and hot. I'm also wearing a new jumper that I do like, but swore to myself I would never wear outside of the house as it makes me look like a church warden. The only church warden in a crowd of Vicky Pollards, though.

Have you tried the rice Pringles yet? I'm a third of a way into a tube but I'm not too sure about them.

Excellent. Double bill of X Factor tonight. How hot does Sharon look? And Simon. Mmm, scathing.

We have more wine for tonight. Brilliant. There must be more areas of lesbianism we didn't cover last night,

*Atchoo*. Clearly time for him to get off my head now.

"i don't really like being touched"
"really?"
"i have multiple orgasms though"
"how does that work?"
"i'm not saying"
("does she rub on you?")
("yes")
("i knew it")

here be wine!

here be glass!

here be me!

i be drunk!

I'm off to see the lesbians of Leeds (well two of them anyway), and their mental dog, and the two rabbits, and four guinea pigs, and the hamster called Maximo - which is not as good a name as Super Hans.

Super Hans has his own Facebook profile now. He's so awesome.

Have a good weekend all.

My smoothie hasn't been blended enough and it's full of various berry pips. This makes me cross.

I'm off to Leeds tomorrow to see my happy friends and their manic dog again. Love visiting them. They're the happiest and closest couple, lesbian or otherwise, that I have ever encountered. Six years after meeting they still have a rampant sex life and now there are baby plans. Of course they're both so dippy it's unlikely they've looked into the logistics of that yet, but I'm sure they'll make great mums.

AND I'M STILL SINGLE AND SPROGLESS. The only one in the office now. Gah.

Unrelated, perhaps, but gosh I've had some naughty Ex Ex dreams lately!

And finally: I'm job hunting. Again. Properly this time. I'm so, so bored here.

I am writing further to your recent application for re-grading.

[May is recent?]

I am pleased to inform you that the Review Panel has recommended that your post should be re-graded with effect from 1 August 2007

[You mean your buzzword scanning software is on top form lately.]
[Oh, and no back pay for the whole year I have just worked on a lower scale? Ooook.]

I should like to take this opportunity to thank you for the valued contribution you make to the University and congratulate you on this award.

[No! Thank you for realising!]

[Hurrah though! That's that dealt with!]

[I can get rid of these brackets now really can't I]

[But I like them]

Today I will be withdrawing from the university after two days of being a student. Huzzah.

I simply do not have the funds to do it right now.

I can think of better ways of spending £3240 than on two years of feminism (or getting annoyed with it, in my case. Eugh, feminism).

I do not want to commit myself to two years in Hull. I think I can only manage one more.

I'm going to put everything I would've spent on tuition fees and Other Related Costs back in my now empty savings account and save up, because I want to go abroad, specifically Europe*, because I'm slighty obsessed with this idea, and if I don't do it in the next year or two, I don't know when I will - or when I will dare, for that matter. I've always been told I'm not the kind of person who would like that sort of thing, or that I would never do it. You know when you're told something often enough it becomes the case? That's how things are with so many aspects of my personality, i.e, I'm lazy, I get stressed out easily, etc etc. If I go against any of the things that apparently are 'normal' for me, it creates such a fuss, so I just don't bother.

Since deciding yesterday that I'd made the wrong decision by registering, people (including the course leader, and the academic adviser here, who is also a good friend) have been telling me it's because I'm scared of change. Again, this is another trait that has always been attributed to me. This attitude has in turn made me consider change to be a difficult or upsetting thing. They're wrong in this case. If I did this degree now, it would be a way of avoiding change - I'd be doing it in a department I know, at a university I know, still working in the same job. It isn't doing the course that would be a change - I would be doing it to avoid having to alter any other aspect of my life. I've had enough of living like that.

I do want to do an MA one day. Maybe this one here, maybe something totally different at another university. Point is, I would like to have the choice and not feel I have to rush into it. I also want to see nice things, take nice pictures, have nice memories. Not too much to ask is it?

*Please attribute blame to Michael Palin and Row for accelerating this.

Shattered.

First day of the new academic year. HURRAH! WHOOP! YEAH! Yeah.

Today has been largely spent directing students to the room where they need to register with a local GP. It's amazing how few of them grasped this concept.
"What do we do?"
"Go to a desk of a GP that is near where you live and register with them"
"What do I need?"
"Your name and address"
"Oh..."
"Ok?"
"I don't know my address"
"...Just go in. Please."

We did steal from the free lunch for the GPs, which was enjoyable at the time, but like all University catering, it has made me feel very very sick. I don't know what they put in it, but it ain't good.

Then I had to go and queue to register myself as a frickin student, which is annoying, as I can't be bothered with all that after all. Too late now. There were about six drama students behind me in the queue. Drama students are my least favourite students. All they talk about is 'productions', and alcohol. All the girls were wearing berets. Everytime they spoke I wanted to ram my fist down their throats and shove their berets up my arse. Stupid, stupid girls. SHUT UP, argh, I can hear them in my head.

Then I parted with £540 for the privilege of attending one module a week until January, which was distressing.

Then I get back to my office, the hardship fund forms we have been telling people to collect from the 24th onwards have not arrived from the printer yet, so there are instead reams of paper with people's names and addresses on to have them sent out. GET. FUCKING. JOBS. OR. STOP. SPENDING. MONEY. YOU. DON'T. HAVE. IT'S. VERY. SIMPLE.

Did I mention it has been pissing it down all day, and I don't own anything waterproof? And that I can't get anything waterproof from my parents' house as they are currently on a cruise somewhere? Bastards.

I have a FUCKING headache.

An hour and a half late.

In a minute anyway.

When this student gets off my phone.

Get off my phone, student.

Wine shall be purchased this eve.

*peeks out room*

Goodness. They're everywhere, I can't even get down the corridor.

Having had all their luggage stowed away in the bowels of our office building, they now all want it back. Delightfully, half of it seems to be missing.

*discreetly closes office door*

Something tells me I will not be leaving work at 4pm today.

Something tells me I will not be expected to mention overtime, either.

"Hiya, I'm from the International office, can we leave some students' luggage here for a bit until their landlords come and get them?"

"Yeah sure, no one's in the back room, put it there"

"Might be a bit too much for here..."

"Kitchen as well?"

"Ummm...."

"Around my very feet? Right. How much luggage are we talking?"

Many, many, many luggages.

Today will suck.

Tomorrow is the start of arrivals weekend for all UK students.

Oh, goody.

It's like a mental game of British bulldogs, or red rover, or whatever the game was called by you and your childhood peers.

Ready for the onsalught, and...BRACE!

I predict:

"I don't like my house. I won't be living there. Find me another".
"I don't like my Halls. I won't be living there. Find me another".
"I don't like my son's accommodation. I will not be paying for him to live there. Find another room or we won't give you a penny" (note: this one will actually work).
"I don't have anywhere to live"
"I've signed for two places to live"
"I don't have any money"
"How do I get money?"
"Where are the toilets?"
"Where can I get the coffee vouchers?"
"What do I do now?"
"Well if you can't help, who can?"

Fuck me you cretin!

You must remember Stoppit and Tidyup?

Too old to get as wankered as I did on Saturday night/Sunday morning. Far too responsible to be in that state. But much fun was had:

Plus de Vodka (no wine, not a drop)
Arguing with the freak in a facemask in the queue for Fuel. Very rude. Flatmate asking if he wore it because he was ugly.
Flatmate repeating "I'm a teacher, I'm a professional person!" upon realising she was quite drunk and queueing for (another) gay club.
Flatmate despairing at the £6 entry fee. "But really, £6? Is it even any good in there? Why must I wear this wristband? It sounds crap. I shouldn't be here, I'm a professional person".
Sitting in the Cheesy Pop back room drinking quite quickly, and upon hearing the opening bars of 'Let's Hear It For The Boy', standing up, in sync, to commence The Dancing.
The Dancing. Some serious shapes were thrown. They were large, they were twirly, they were excessive, they were cringeworthy, they were room-clearing. They were Seriously Good Shapes.
Flatmate flying off a stage while throwing said shapes.
Belinda Carlisle.
Take That.
Dancing with a drag queen and getting whipped with the ragged tassels of her denim skirt.
Flatmate being approached by a lady and being asked if she is gay or straight. Flatmate not hearing and shouting "I'M SORRY I REALLY DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE SAYING! BUT I'M SORRY I'M NOT A GAY! SHE IS THE GAY!" *gesture to me*. Lady then says that she shouldn't eye other ladies up. "I WASN'T, I HAVE A LAZY EYE!". Lady says to me that my friend shouldn't eye ladies up. "OH SHE WASN'T, SHE HAS A LAZY EYE!". Lady leaves looking pissed off.
Practically creaming in drunken excitement when A1's 'Same Old Brand New You' came on, being the only ones who knew all the words, and with the need to dance quite so enthusiastically. (We really did make use of all the space available to us. We should go into figure skating.)
Adopting a large man from a place near Flatmate's hometown (it sounded like Durmstrang so I liked that) and trying to drag him back to the pre-Fuel bar for the afterparty. He very much wanted to stay with his friends.
Acquiring a man called Steven, thereafter called Gay Steven, who did not like having his tummy blown on by me, and who wiped his snot all over Flatmate, which I heard as cock, and shouted about.
Leaving Gay Steven with people found at a cash machine (literally, "Take Gay Steven! Run!")
Queuing for the afterparty, getting to the paypoint, finding out it wasn't free ("£2.50!?"), and running away giggling. In retrospect it may have been worth showing our 'access to afterparty' wristbands.
Realising it was 4am but that the need for chips was far greater than getting a taxi.
Barely consuming the most disgusting chips known to man with 'chip spice' that was clearly just curry powder.
Walking home. Beverley Road doesn't seem very long when you're sat on a bus. It is when you're still so drunk you can't see. I am saddened we have been those early morning drunk girls on Bev Road.
Loudly congratulating each other upon arriving home successfully, and managing to open door, lock door, AND turn off the alarm, AND the light - all punctuated by lots of  "YESSSSSS"es.
Sweeping contents of room off bed, dragging on pyjamas, and laying on top of the covers making small "uh" grunting noises.
Flatmate appearing in her underwear saying "I've got a facewipe, look, I'm wiping my face", then saying goodnight and turning off my light.
Then it was midday, and I was thirsty.

For reference:

Joy

Following Tuesday's interview, je suis a house tutor for the next year, and in ten minutes I'm off to pick up the lists of houses and students that will inhabit them. I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do after that but never mind, I'm sure I'll get reminded if I forget to do something. Maybe. I'm hoping the interviewer's words of 'responsible for 60 students' was, I don't know, an ironic metaphor of some kind. Or something.

My goldfish and loach are newly installed in a 90 litre tank, and I swear they're smiling. They were funny at first. I think they were used to swishing their tails once and arriving at the other side of the tank, now they actually have to move their bodies too. They kept swimming in circles faster than I've ever seen them move their scaly butts before, and Joy, they don't hit anything, or each other. That said, Alan still chases the girls, the horny devil. Dyson has his own little corner with many smooth pebbles and the filter outlet blows directly onto him for his own little currenty heaven. Much gill flapping and wiggling.

Non Joy

I was wiped yesterday by an early bout of freshers flu, which I have suffered from every September for five years. On Tuesday night I was delerious, it was so strange. I was looking for a rabbit at the side of my bed and when I got up to go to the loo I sat on it thinking about what sandwich I was going to go order from Subway. I'm still feeling a bit wretched. Bad throat and explosive headache. Coughing blood. Vivid green snot. Vile.

I took yesterday off work and watched LOTR3 (long film to fill the afternoon) but all that did was remind me that it is about 3 weeks since I text her whilst watching the first one and she still hasn't replied, so I'm guessing she never will.

Just been for an interview to be a non-resident student house tutor. Random title, but that's what it is. Basically, house tutors are lumped with 60ish students who live in student houses (as opposed to halls), and you are, well, responsible for them. It's made to sound very scary ("What would you do if someone had a raucous party at 3am and you were called by security?" - clearly tell security to do their job and leave me alone), but I see it as more responsibility, which is always good CV wise, plus it pays £1066 a year. Bonus.

Anyway, I'll find out tomorrow. I'm going to eat this brownie as a reward for an interview that went very well. Even if I don't get it, there are always reward brownies.

Same old morning routine for me - yawn, stretch, scratch, piss, and turn TV on for more breakfast news goodness.

It took about ten minutes of BBC1 news for me to realise I was almost certainly in the middle of a feature about apples. Oh, the horror. A phrase about the first bite into a Cox releasing a plethora of juices into the mouth in a taste explosion (or something along those lines) was a little too much, so I promptly switched to ITV. Sorry, ITV1.

Ahh that's more like it, a reporter at Ground Zero That Was.

I watched Mr Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 last night. I'm sure I've seen it before - at least half of it anyway, it's a bit bloody long - so I stuck it out this time. I still find it quite shocking, as cynical and biased as it may be (I am also incredibly cyncial and biased at all times, so I think that's why I quite like the guy). Regardless of the fact that he could've put just about anything in that film and people like me would have no way of (dis)proving it either way, it still to me plays out like fiction. It's like a scripted film in its own right that would work without the real events.

Pictures of dead Iraqi babies aren't necessary Mr Moore - you couldn't make the guy any more of a cunting tosspot than he already is.

The the news changes, and tells me that Anita Roddick has died, which is a great shame. But what's with the serious news, ITV? Where are your reports on apples??

Flick back to BBC1. A man is telling us how he brought Sudoku to the masses - that'd be us - with his computer software. TV off. Time for Cheerios.

Homecoming by Kanye West/Chris Martin of Coldplay and fruity daughter fame.

Likey, dammit.

So, I'm sat on my bed, debating whether or not to brush my hair, scarfing toast (white bread, how delightfully sinful), wondering whether to wear normal clothes to work or whether to wear the t shirts we don't actually have to wear until students arrive in a couple of weeks (they say "STAFF - YOU'VE ARRIVED" in big letters on the back. At least they no longer say "ask me!", as anyone who does "ask me" is likely to get little more than a snarl in response these days), debating trainers or flips flops, whether I have time to brush my teeth...the usual morning routine. My ears tune back into the TV and I hear "out of shape", "flabby", and, my favourite word, "paunch", and then I see this:

I happen to think she's looking better than she has in a long time. I certainly wouldn't object to waking up looking like that. I'd give anything (let's not be silly). I'd be open to suggested painful repayments in order to wake up like that.

In fact, see this little finger nail?

*rrriiiiiiiipppppp*

....

Alas.

Have only just managed to make it into work. My head's stopped working.
I don't feel that I'm in a good place at the moment.

Your Personality Is Like Acid

A bit wacky, you're very difficult to predict. One moment you're in your own little happy universe... And the next, you're on a bad trip to your own personal hell!

Oh, I miss you.

Bloggers “suffer from acute self-aggrandizement,” he writes. Bloggers “are not virtuous but vicious,” he proclaims. They are solipsistic, and “lack clear frameworks of social obligation and political responsibility.” They “resort to escapist and delusional substitutes for problem solving.” They are “cults” and—my personal favourite—“like terrorists.” And so on and so on. It is endless.

I'd give anything to be sat in a basement eating junk food all day, I don't see what the problem is! Neither does this guy. Hail the Pyjamahadeen. Hail Canadian critics.

I am very cross today. People have been horrible. Other members of staff have spoken to me like I am shit, even though I know more about their job than they seem to. The strip lighting in this office makes me nauseous. My contact lenses are painful and dry. Lunch was minging. I spent forever choosing my MA modules and now I've had to change them about because a student that is enrolling next year has already chosen hers based on the fact that she might do a PhD afterwards on a similar subject - just fuck off on that one. My dish of butter mints has melted under the strip lights. It's gone warm outside and I am dressed for the cold of this morning and I don't want the 20 minute walk home being warm in the warm as it will make me feel sicker. All the fish tank browsing on eBay is fruitless as I can't afford any of them. I want to go home and eat hula hoops and honey nut cheerios out the box. But I will probably have to go home and do the washing up again.

Just heard on the radio about Jane Tomlinson losing the battle this morning.

Quite sad now.

Yes. Blame Brad.

Two Names You Go By:
1 Laura
2 Keith

Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now:
1 Orange socks
2 Black bra

Two Things You Would Want (or have) in a Relationship:
1 Acceptance
2 Contentment

Two Things You Should Do:
1 Some work
2 Buy a TV licence

Two Things You Want Very Badly At The Moment:
1 A wee
2 My HERA form to come back saying "Congratulations! We are going to up your pay in straightforward way!"

Two Things You Did Last Night:
1 Ate a large but pretty disgusting cheese and ham omelette in lieu of the pasta and chips I had for lunch (all about balance)
2 Watched a lot of TV on my bed

Two Things You Hated Today:
1 The temperature in my bedroom - serious nip on, even under the duvet!
2 Realising it was only 10.15, not lunch time

Two People You Last Talked To:
1 Bev at work
2 Myself

Two Things you're doing tomorrow:
1 I might wash a pair of jeans
2 Other than that, much the same as today

Two longest recent car rides:
1
2

Two Favourite Holidays:
1 Well, I had a good time in the Borders with Ex, although that is now tainted with her subsequent betrayal months later
2 I had fun B&Bing around Ireland...when I was 7

Two Favourite Beverages:
1 Cherryade
2 Rosé

Two Things That Would Surprise You About Me:
1 I am terrifed of injections to the point of passing out, but love piercings
2 Cheese makes my nose itch

Two Jobs I Have Had In My Life:
1 Worked in Evans
2 Avon Lady

Two Movies I would watch over and over:
1 A Life Less Ordinary
2 Alice in Wonderland

Two Places I have lived:
1 Huddersfield
2 GrimsbyandHull

Two Favourite kinds of foods:
1 Y'know in China they just call it food
2 Italiano

Two Places I'd rather be right now:
1 Leeds with my nice friends and their dog
2 Somewhere with someone else nice

...it's best to turn to the internet for entertainment.

Personally I have chosen to watch this five times in a row, and piss myself everytime.