CoughspluttersniffatCHOOatCHOOaaaaatCHOO. Etc.
I not well.
I spent a lot of last night 'hallucinating', like I normally do when I have a temperature. I added three different made-up people to my phone book, and told my pillow - who WAS grinning like a loon at me - to GO AWAY *huff* *roll over* *strop*.
But my illness benchmark is when I start slashing invisible works of art, thinking I ate my fish, and ordering subway sandwiches in my head. So many possiblities.
I should be handing in an essay right this second. What a bloody relief it is not to be.
]]>I don't know what happens now exactly, but I'm trying to rewire my brain into realising that not knowing what's coming next isn't necessarily always a bad thing, and that there's no point sticking with something just because it's the safer option, or for saving face, or just for the sake of finishing something.
I don't have a lot of balls, really - none, in fact - so perhaps it's time I grew some. Figuratively. Perhaps if other people have faith in me, I should have some in myself.
And that's as emotionally trite as I get, people. Move along now.
]]>Uni: Quit
Job: Quit.
Hall: Quit.
Volunteering: Quit.
Destination: Home.
Job: Anything.
Moving: Anywhere.
Reason: Me.
So there we go.
Yes, I'm mad. No, I don't know what the hell I'm doing either. But it's actually quite exciting! (I'll see if I'm saying that after a month of unemployment at home. But whatever!)
I have a week to PACK UP EVERYTHING. Here we go again!
]]>
Unbearably fine arse:
Bouncy bouncy. I kept loads of the paper, of course:
Cried, again:
More videos on YouTube, but I won't bore you with every single one here...not that anyone will watch them but me...over and over again...
Another amazing night. *Swoon*.
]]>Shame I'm so bloody knackered after a night of broken sleep. I think I nodded off in the bath for a few minutes this morning.
Here was my plan:
Get train to Manchester.
Get taxi to Travelodge.
Meet sister and her housemate there.
Get ready, little drinky, go eat somewhere, go see Pink, leave, One Drink in A Bar, hotel, sleep, leave.
Here is my sister's plan:
I get the train to Leeds.
I wait for confirmation from her about whether she can be arsed to get me from Leeds station.
In the probable likelihood she can't be arsed, get the train to Hedingley.
Be picked up by sister and housemate.
Drive to the Trafford Centre.
Be bored 'Shop'.
Drive to Travelodge.
Get ready in a minute and get taxi into Manchester.
Wander around for hours, have tea, go see Pink, leave, drag me to the horror that is Canal Street (my sister, being a lezza-cliche, cannot so much as entertain the thought of going anywhere else, despite my pleading), meet up with her obnoxious friends, 'shots', 'bad chicken', taxi, hotel, drink, maybe sleep, maybe not.
I realise I sound a grumpy old fart, but I must stress that she only turned 21 a few months ago - celebrated with a purple foam party in Magaluf - and I am 25 and a half, and living here means sleep really is a marvellously exciting thing for me these days. So I am contemplating getting a taxi back to the hotel and waiting for them, and being something of a martyr when they come in drunk and wake me up. "They can't help it. They're only young".
Pink Pink Pink.
Oh dear. Have one hour until I must leave the flat. Must cease to be naked, clean out Pepper and Sweetpea, and wash up. Hold the train, please.
]]>
Hmm...I'm sure that'll race off the shelves. Don't all rush at once 
Ok, how many jokes are there in this?
Jolly roger (thanks pompey).
Fire the cannon.
Enter the poop deck.
BUTTPIRATES.
...Ok, there are no more.
]]>
Charlie Brooker responded in the Guardian - brilliant, obviously, but it's not really a big deal as he only voiced what everyone else who read the Moir article was thinking: "Way to gay-bash, Jan".
He adds at the bottom that it would be delightful if we were all to pay a visit to "the Press Complaints Commission website (www.pcc.org.uk) to lodge a complaint about Moir's article on the basis that it breaches sections 1, 5 and 12 of its code of practice".
That is all well and good. It clearly does breach several clauses under 'Accuracy', 'Discrimination' and 'Intrusion into grief or shock'.
I read the Mail article BEFORE reading Charlie's article and had been suitably disgusted and shocked, so off I went to the website to have a little look.
At the top of its Make A Complaint site are the words IF YOU ARE COMPLAINING ABOUT THE JAN MOIR PIECE IN THE DAILY MAIL PLEASE CLICK HERE. I click. I fill in the form. I don't rant about how shocking and disturbing it is, or how offensive it is to his family - I complain on the statements made about civil partnerships and the implications of this.
This was my automatic response:
Thank you for sending us your complaint about the Daily Mail article on the subject of the death of Stephen Gately. We have received numerous complaints about this matter.
I should first make clear that the Commission generally requires the involvement of directly affected parties before it can begin an investigation into an article. On this occasion, it may be a matter for the family of Mr Gately to raise a complaint about how his death has been treated by the Daily Mail. I can inform you that we have made ourselves available to the family and Mr Gately's bandmates, in order that they can use our services if they wish.
We require the direct involvement of affected parties because the PCC process can have a public outcome and it would be discourteous for the Commission to publish information relating to individuals without their knowledge or consent. Indeed, doing so might unwittingly add to any intrusion. Additionally, one of the PCC's roles is dispute resolution, and we would need contact with the affected party in order to determine what would be an acceptable means of settling a complaint.
On initial examination, it would appear that you are, therefore, a third party to the complaint, and wemay not be able to pursue your concerns further. However, if you feel that your complaint touches on claims that do not relate directly to Mr Gately or his family, please let us know, making clear how they raise a breach of the Code of Practice. If you feel that the Commission should waive its third party rules, please make clear why you believe this.Press Complaints Commission
I've highlighted the bit I have a problem with. I WAS complaining about something that does not relate directly to Mr Gately or his family. I was complaining about the following from the original article:
Another real sadness about Gately's death is that it strikes another blow to the happy-ever-after myth of civil partnerships.
Gay activists are always calling for tolerance and understanding about same-sex relationships, arguing that they are just the same as heterosexual marriages. Not everyone, they say, is like George Michael.
Of course, in many cases this may be true. Yet the recent death of Kevin McGee, the former husband of Little Britain star Matt Lucas, and now the dubious events of Gately's last night raise troubling questions about what happened.
I literally cannot find the words for how angry that makes me. She has responded (I can't use the word apologise) in a press release, finishing with the words "In what is clearly a heavily orchestrated internet campaign I think it is mischievous in the extreme to suggest that my article has homophobic and bigoted undertones". You can laugh at that, or pull your hair out, as you choose.
There are no other links in the email from the PCC in order to let them know further information about your complaint, incidentally.
So that was a waste of time. Who do I complain to about the PCC?
]]>Man in class: "She insisted on being addressed as 'Ms Chambers'. Nobody uses Ms anymore, do they? Well, apart from the unmarried over 35s, divorcees, and lesbians - they all insist on it."
Me: "Well, I use Miss..."
Man: "Oh - are you divorced?!"
At least he didn't think I was over 35.
]]>Yeeeeeeeeah
]]>It's possibly because this year we have waaaay more boys than girls, and it's the girls that cause all the problems. There are definite differences between them this year.
The boys aren't so inclined to screech, shriek, scream, giggle, cry, bitch or run around the corridors as the girls are. Boys just disturb everyone with music or video games (I feel so, so old just saying that) turned up to full volume at 3am, then express genuine surprise that anyone is bothered by it, and turn it lower.
The girls either dress up to come down for dinner or wear their pyjamas in a "Look at me! I'm such a social butterfly, and so exhausted from my nights out that I've had to sleep all afternoon - observe my carefully constructed bed hair and slightly too low-slung pyjamas that reveal my tattoo of 3 stars on my lower back. Just a jacket potato for me, please, I'm soooo hungover!" kind of way. The boys turn up, pile their plates with more food than they're really allowed, eat it very quickly and leave.
The girls sneer at you and exchange glances when you ask them to do something, or tell them off for managing to lock themselves out again. The boys are really polite, laugh at themselves, thank you profusely and apologise every 30 seconds.
The smoking crowd like to sit on the steps in the grounds and drink before going to the pub. The girls drink white wine, drop the bottles and glasses, and giggle a lot when you ask them to be a bit more careful. The boys kick empty beer cans around but put them in the bin when you ask them to.
The girls argue; the boys placate. Prime example at 2.30am this morning outside my door:
Screeching girl: WHO DA FUCK DOES SHE FINK SHE IS? WHO DA FUCK IS SHE?!" (etc, etc).
Accompanying boys: "SHHHHHH, calm down, yeah? Calm down! SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! You're gonna wake everyone up, yeah?"
Screeching girl: "MAN I DON'T GIVE A FUCK WHO I WAKE UP!"
Me, flinging my door open, in my dressing gown: "YOU HAVE WOKEN ME UP!" *Notices entire corridor of people in pyjamas looking murderous* "AND YOU HAVE WOKEN EVERYBODY ELSE UP AS WELL! Now quite clearly you're drunk and upset about something and not just pratting about so I suggest you either go to bed or continue this argument with yourself OUTSIDE!"
One boy who has been woken up: "Haha, yeeeeah, bollock her!"
Screeching girl: "Maaaan, this place is like a fucking prison, can't do NUFFINK..." *wanders off outside*
Boys: "We're SO sorry about her, she had, like, a row with a girl, and, like...yeah..."
Me: "BED!" *slams door*
(I didn't get to sleep til 4.30am.)
On the whole: boys alarmingly polite and amusing, girls annoying. So nothing new there.
Should be a reasonably good year...
]]>1) Obama wins 2009 Nobel Peace Prize
Ok, he's a nice guy, but isn't that a bit OTT? I think this is mainly down to the fact that it is impossible for men not to have a Man Crush on him.
2) Woman wins RSPCA will challenge
A woman whos crazy parents left their farm to the RSPCA instead of her has won it back. So that's good to know.
3. US spacecraft crash into the Moon
No it fucking didn't, and yes I was watching on the NASA website. NOTHING happened. The presence of a CGI image proves nothing, and many of the men I saw had mullets, so shut up.
4. 'Oldest' thieves jailed for raid
After a boring week in a nursing home (maybe), two blokes in their 70s in Scotland nicked a load of shit from a newsagents. One defence lawyer has said one of the old gits acted that way "because there is a thrill to be found in breaking the law". Not the best way to put people off doing it again.
5. Ledge saves woman from 150ft fall
Wow, something from my neck of the woods is the fifth most popular story at the moment! A girl from my village went to Scarborough, got pissed, and fell off a cliff, but landed on a ledge 10ft down. *Applause*.
6. Are women cyclists in more danger than men?
NO.
7. Cage fighters' stag night web hit
Two cage fighters go out in drag, get picked on, and throw some punches. Wow.
8. Girl drowned 'as father kissed'
Sad, but an accident nonetheless, and as it happened AGES ago it's probably time to stop going on about it and let the guilt eat away at him in peace.
9. TV teen drama actress joins Navy
The (fit) actress who played Sooz in As If on C4 years ago has joined the navy. (As if!)
10. Hacker refused extradition appeal
Computer hacker, UFO seeker and Asperger's person Gary McKinnon has been refused permission to appeal to against his extradition to the US. And I thought my uni's English department were mean.
]]>Who's for statutory medically-induced national hibernation? I can't be the only one.
]]>She showed him her privates, he gasped from the stench, and out popped a fat hairless cat, horned like the devil and mustachioed like a rake.
It's a long time since I sat and casually browsed through websites, starting in one place and realising, an hour later, you couldn't be further from your original topic. A bit like getting drunk and starting to talk about the merits of Chunky Kit Kats vs. Boosts, but quickly moving on to "Which is more pointless: GCSE Music, or GCSE Art?". (Recent conversation.)
So what started as a search in Victorian periodicals about childrens' experiences of boarding school ended up, very quickly, as an investigation into the concept of the condition knowns as 'womb-fury', which then led to the discovery of an early 17th Century medical article entitled 'On Monsters That Have Come Forth From Women's Wombs' - a very real problem, apparently, in the 1690s. I URGE you to read it - HERE - and share the joy.
Sir Philip Popinjay, Knight of the Stool and Personal Surgeon to His Majesty the King, describes, in his great work The Anatomy of Codpeeces, a noble young virgin of twelve summers, with lily paps and a breath of myrrh, with rubies sewn into her golden hair, with lips like cherries and eyes like stars, whom he treated for greensickness, and who, after lactating blood from her dainty coral nipples, fell into a swoon and, in a bed with a coverlet of scarlet velvet, cast from her belly, along with a great gush of foul-stinking humors, a live flying fish, not unlike the marvel described by Rondolet in his History of Fish: an exceedingly warty creature with a green snout and three sets of wings. Sir Popinjay kept the fish alive in a bucket of brine and presented it to His Majesty the King on his forty-fifth birthday.
I'm so pleased I found it, as I have also found my new favourite quotation:
The world is naught but a carcass, a foul and pestilential congregation of vapors, a ball of excrement upon which Man piddles his days away like the dung beetle harvesting filth.
An excellent email signature, I think.
]]>Watched Masterchef.
Putting Forgetting Sarah Marshall on.
Then bed.
Long, long day tomorrow 
*Coughs feebly* G'night.
]]>Still, there's always Swine Flu to worry about these days, isn't there? Especially with statements like this on the NHS Pandemic Scaremongering Site:
The number of new swine flu cases in England has again risen, with an estimated 14,000 in the week to October 1, up from 9,000 the week before.
Well, isn't that funny? A massive increase in the last week of September? I wonder what on EARTH could have caused those statistics? Not students starting University, surely?
I decided to go through the Online Swine Flu Diagnoser Checker Thing and entered my symptoms honestly. Yes, in addition to a higher than normal temperature, I have two of the additional symptoms listed: A sore throat, and a blocked up/runny nose. I also had to enter my address and date of birth.
Lights flashed and an alarm sounded: SWINE FLU. YOU HAVE SWINE FLU. I was immediately provided with an Authorisation Code for antiviral drugs - with a further note explaining that this would be the ONLY time the code would be provided for whoever lived at that address with my name and date of birth, so write it down NOW.
That's a bit sneaky, isn't it? All I want to do is check my symptoms, and I'm provided with a one-off code to get the drugs. I don't think I need them right now, but what if next month I really do get Swine Flu? I better hope I can find the code I've just scribbled down somewhere.
No wonder the statistics are shooting through the roof if someone like me, with a normal case of fresher's flu, is being diagnosed antiviral drugs. All that's done is panic me, to be honest - and if I hadn't checked out of curiosity, it would never have occured to me that it could be Swine Flu at all.
(I might get them anyway. Just to be safe.)
]]>I know I could download things, but I don't want to, and don't see why I should have to.
Hmph.
]]>
]]>1 Is there anybody you just wish would fall off the planet?
Yes. No time to list them all.
2. How do you flush the toilet in public?
Now, see, I hadn't given this a moment's thought before, but now I'm totally worried that the existence of this question means that there IS a correct method and I'm not doing it right. Please advise.
3. Do you wear your seatbelt in the car?
Yes.
4. Do you have a crush on someone?
Yes, I have crushes all the time, they come and go.
5. Name one thing you worry about running out of.
Eggs. (Now, do I mean chicken eggs, or viable ovarian offerings?)
6. What famous person do you (or other people) think you resemble?
No one.
7. What is your favorite pizza topping?
Meateh! Although I do love bolognaise or chilli on them. Mmmmm. Greasy.
8. Do you crack your knuckles?
Not through choice - ditto ankles, fingers and toes. I sound like bubblewrap.
9. What song do you hate the most?
'Dr Jones' by Aqua.
10. Did just mentioning that song make it get stuck in your head?
A yippee-i-oooh, a yippee-i-ey.
11.What are your super powers?
Terrifyingly good hearing. No point whispering near me.
12 Peppermint or spearmint?
Peppermint, spearmint tastes like manure.
13.Where are your car keys?
None-existent.
14. Last song you listened to?
'Why Did I Ever Like You?', Pink.
15. What's your most annoying habit?
Gawd, where to start. Cynicism, probably, but please feel free to disagree - you probably will.
16 Where did you last go on vacation?
Does London count a few wekends ago? If not, going to Ireland/Berlin last May.
17. What is your best physical feature?
Eyes. Slimmest part of me.
18. What CD is closest to you right now?
The Back Room, Editors.
19.What 3 things can always be found in your refrigerator?
Pesto, ham, orange juice.
20 What superstition do you believe/practice?
I like to think none of them.
21. What color are your bed sheets?
Black and white at the moment.
22. Would you rather be a fish or a bird?
A fish in a protected area of coral reef.
23. Last thing you broke?
A pint glass, elbowed it off my desk a week ago. Picked most of it up and put a box over the remaining miniscule shards. Don't have a hoover, don't have the inclination to go find a cleaner's hoover, so...meh. Won't stand there.
24 What are you having to eat tonight?
I WAS going to have fajitas but after a chilli-con-carne pizza at 1am last night (really good, but also really bad...) I think I will be having cereal.
25. What color shirt are you wearing?
A lilac vest top. Pyjamas.
26. If you could be doing anything else today, what would you rather be doing?
NOT going to work 5pm - 9pm and NOT having to have a bath after this. I would rather just have a day where I don't feel stressed about anything in the slightest, even for a fleeting moment.
27. Do security cameras make you nervious?
No, I smile at them.
28. If you wrote a book about your life, what would the title be?
"Oh, For Fuck's Sake".
29. Last time you went to a cemetery?
Forgotten.
30. Last concert you went to?
Pink.
31. Favorite musician(s)/bands you've seen in concert?
Muse. (Pink.) (Muse.) (Pink.) (Can't choose - loyalties torn.) (Oh my god, imagine seeing them perform together! I'd need an ambulance.)
32. Next concert you're planning to attend?
Pink! In LESS THAN 3 WEEKS! AAAAAARGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Ahem.
33. Do you talk to yourself?
Yes, all the time.
34. Have you ever adopted or purchased a pet?
Oh lordy...just a few.
35. Have you ever been present when an animal is being born?
Do fish count?
Last night I was asked if I wanted to go help someone choose fish for their tank today at a fishy shop I hadn't been to before. Stupid question, really.
We left at 10am. By 10.30am I was home with Pepper.
I got Pepper because Pepper was advertised as a female and I thought it was a lovely example of a female and because I'm impulsive - no other reason.
Further observation of Pepper, followed by the Compact Mirror Test, reveals that I actually have a psychotic male - but ooh, ain't he lovely? He has yet to meet Sweetpea, who lives on the other side of my bed, but here he is meeting himself:
]]>Cause of rash: An allergy to Panda Pops Cola, given to me in secret by an older cousin at a birthday party.
Panic over.
Can only presume it isn't a life threatening allergy, seeing as it has taken Mum 24 years to tell me about it.
]]>(And we thought a drumming gorilla was irrelevant.)
(Have a bop anyway.)
]]>(Like it wasn't obvious.)
I'm at work, it's stifling hot, and totally silent. I have nothing to do and no one to talk to. My brain feels like a bubbling pot. It can simmer for so long but sooner or later it'll start spilling everywhere into a horrible mess. There's no one to wipe it up.
Never mind. I'll just sit here and drum my fingers.
]]>At about 2pm I had a bath. I realise this is an odd time to have a bath, but it's MY bathtime and I'll have it when I like.
I get in, shave one leg, get bored of that, and shampoo head.
*Knock knock knock* at the flat door.
(No no no no no, fuck off, I'm NOT on duty, it says so quite clearly on the door in front of you!)
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
(Argh. NO. Please go away, please don't knock a third time, please please plea- )
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!*
(Oh ffs, please just be a broken limb, don't be bleeding everywhere or knocked out or something...)
I clamber out of the bath, one leg shaved, shampoo on head, apply towels and dressing gown liberally to body, go to open the bathroom door and hear:
"She's obviously not in. Let's find the porter."
LLWNTS.
]]>