Monday, 9 June 2008
Catwoman/Sweeney Todd Ensemble
s:
I wonder...what does failure taste like....but,youll know...so tell me ...Tell me what you cherish most..Give me the pleasure of taking it away...
.: dana. de3h - almost died Tokyo Drift style!! says:
lol I'll tell you what it tastes like. It tastes like yanking John Roe's cashmere scarf and strangling him with it!
really, who cares about design elements. moony rocks says:
ahahaahhahaha, is that the ajudicator name?
.: dana. de3h - almost died Tokyo Drift style!! says:
yes!! Any old man with a chasmere scarf beware! I am the serial yanker in search for John Roe! And I WILL HAVE MY JUSTICE.
really, who cares about design elements. moony rocks says:
deeh
.: dana. de3h - almost died Tokyo Drift style!! says:
I just had a vision of me in my catwoman outfit climbing rooftops and yanking the cashmere scarfs of random men walking across the street like sweeney todd yelling "ARE YOU JOHN ROE!"
Friday, 6 June 2008
EPIC FAILURE ladies and gentlemen EPIC FAILURE
This is how my lovely day at History Debating and Hurlstone progressed, however dear readers, I must caution you: COLOURFUL LANGUAGE (and a certain uncharacteristic bitchiness) will most likely ensue. This will be long, as I will go into extreme and gory detail.
How am I feeling at the moment? So demoralised like Japan without its Emperor Hirohito.
How did my day begin? Excellently, actually. How did it end? Disastrously.
This morning I woke up with nothing but victory and success on my mind I was breezing through the morning singing “V-I-C, V-I-C, V-I-C-T-O-R-Y! Victory! Victory is our cry!” Despite the fact that I had a grand total of three hours of sleep and arose bleary-eyed like corey worthington with a hangover (I do despise this bloke SO MUCH and how he besmirches the name of teenagers everywhere – he doesn’t deserve capitalisation!!) I had showered and dressed immaculately, gathered my hair in a French Twist and did my make up perfectly. I was like a glimmering stallion on race day – I was Makybe Diva at the Melbourne Cup. Although we had to be at Westmead at an ungodly hour and I had an obscene amount of coins weighing my purse I was like –yeah! We can do this! We’re prepared! Evidently I was optimistic and continued to be optimistic all the way down to Hurlstone Agricultural in freaking Glenfield which is literally out in whoop-whoop land – I had never been in that direction, it was like we required a passport just to traverse there.
Anyway, we stepped off the train and suddenly there’s like this herd (pardon the pun) of Hurlstone students exiting the train. It was like Marist and McAuley at Westmead station only exemplified because Glenfield is about the size of a peanut. There was literally this exodus of students inundating the stairs and we had to walk up their asphalt pathway (does not compare to King’s at all! I’d rather almost tripping on the grass any day!) bypassing these bizarre archaic agricultural instruments on the way to their main office – which mind you was like a mission to get to. Thank God for the invention of signs and the very hospitable students. Quite frankly, despite the relatively dodgy state of their school, the students were very magnanimous and hospitable and apparently according to their office trophy-case, excellent horse breeders. O_O
Omitting all the tedious formalities, here we are at 9:25am, T-minus five minutes to total destruction. I swear I think Hurlstone had an intimidation tactic up their sleeve, they sent students as spectators and the year ten history classes to watch. So quite literally we were so engulfed with Hurlstone I felt like a bloody reject (once again, I am comfortable at King’s another reason why our expatriation off to whoop-whoop land was so unjustified). The only thing that calmed me down at that point was quite frankly a marvellous conversation with the time-keeper about Dostoevsky. (Ok how much of an ENGLISH NERD did I sound like just then – I was calmed down by discussing Russian Literature. Gosh, deeh, you are unbelievable). In short: we lost.
Ok, now here is the part when I become really bitchy and rant, and I apologise for any colourful language or enraged assertions I will make at this point, but that loss was poignant to me I wanted to literally shove my pen up my nose and bang my head on the table like that girl in Japan who did it with a pencil as she was unable to handle the pressure. We lost upon the stupidest reason – I swear to God that senile adjudicator, John Roe needs to just walk off a cliff or something or re-educate himself on how to adjudicate correctly – we lost on TECHNICALITY. Because we spoke OVERTIME. I’ll take that into consideration, however when you look upon the debate as a whole, we totally kicked their ass. It was so bleeding obvious that we lucidly had won, our arguments were thoroughly (PAINSTAKINGLY) researched – literally we left no stone unturned. Our arguments were titanium steel – our refutations were flawless we spent SIX WEEKS on that debate. We went to the State Library!!! We had expected the team to have a good quality argument. Instead, their argument was so poorly researched and NOT SUBSTATNTIATED may I add (No use of historians or historical facts – pure assertion!) Their refutations consisted primarily of speculation and their arguments were all over the place. Their third speaker was horrible! He stuttered and lost his place and confused his palm cards and said nothing of substantial matter. Then you have Libby who TORE DOWN their case like it was a discarded catalogue left out on a wet day. Literally she shredded them to pieces (we all did) as their arguments were so basic it was laughable (lol but we did employ the strategy of pretending to verse a team of Vales here, and the Hurlstone team did not even compare). And yet we lost on the bullshit reason that we spoke too long and that the other team didn’t. Well, the only reason why they didn’t is because they had no argument or research to fill the time! We went over time because we were so prepared. I swear we annihilated them like the tanks of Tiananmen Square!
What absolutely shits me is that they didn’t even know what side they were on! That ignoramus of an adjudicator said “which is why I give it to the affirmative” and they’re like – what? Is that us? God, I wanted to shoot her. Violent intentions aside, I was so demoralised and shattered. Literally my pride and dignity was so shattered it was all over the floor. This was our fundamental debate. We knew that no matter what happens – no matter if we lost the other two the Japan one would be our definite win because we were so meticulous and prepared. But no we lost on the (excuse me) fucking bullshit basis of time constraints. Everyone – including ALL the Hurlstone spectators and history students had approached us saying that we should have won. The chairperson and time keeper said that we should have won – they even made little arrows on their notes saying “They’re going to win.” The Hurlstone team, the opposition themselves and their friends approached us saying that we should have won – everyone in that room except for stupid John Roe! He was telling us why we lost and everything with his black scarf around his neck with the label “cashmere” emblazoned on the front and all I wanted to do was grab it and strangle him with it! He can just die by a cashmere noose! That’s a dignified death for you!
Anyway, so there was our team and school pride lying in tatters and all I wanted to was bloody commit suicide by shooting myself in the uterus! I was demoralised I did not care anymore. That utter loss, gosh, I wanted to commit seppuku and hara-kiri myself like the Japanese War General Anami after he signed the surrender. Usually I can take defeat, I’m fine with defeat because usually I can say okay “This is where we went wrong, this is why we lost, I know why we lost” and I am able to fault myself, but this, this is just – urgh there are no words. We all agree as a team, that such a travesty would not have occurred at King’s. There they base their adjudication upon historical matter, not freaking time constraints! I am lodging an appeal! (*ahem*)
Then there was a short recess where in which we licked our wounds in a spectacularly bitchy fashion. Hurlstone had these lovely apple crumble pieces however, once again, they do not compare to the delightful assortment of fruit and those indulgent chocolate muffin things King’s has. One of these days, I will commit other acts of espionage and steal the recipe from their kitchens. *devious look* In short we didn’t care about the contemporary historical film one, having had our pride utterly destroyed as though it were the twin towers and we were defeated again to William Clarke. Now whatever pride I had managed to salvage off the proverbial floor was completely eradicated then as we lost to this newbie school whom of which had never debated before. It cuts me that I was a semi-finalist, Libby is a debating machine and Stef had done this before, and Greta was a good public speaker we were the McAuley dream team and we lost on the basis of ONE LINE. We lost on the fact that we failed to refute this one sentence. But I could tell that the debate was EXTREMELY close though because the two adjudicators took quite literally, half an hour to decide. All the while waiting I wanted to jump out the window or shoot myself in the uterus.
But the girls from William Clarke were really nice, very polite and delightful women and approached us saying that we should have won despite that they were also challenging. Once again, the adjudication was ludicrous. I honestly do wish them luck in their future debates as they were so kind and approachable. LOL they said that didn’t know how to refute because of our extended vocabulary and internally I was rejoicing because I was like “Yep! That was the intention!” I harnessed my English-prowess! Yet again I was bleeding on the crags of defeat. Last night my parents recognised my stress and offered me sauvignon blanc. LOL! I wanted that sauvignon blanc at that very moment. It was like history debating version of Sophie Delezio’s life story. First we were burned and suffered and annihilated into critical condition and then WHAM! CAR CRASH! Like a double-whammy, kick ‘em while their down, utter humiliating situation. But we soldiered on into the final debate.
By that time we were utterly exhausted like you don’t understand. We were so incomprehensibly wrung out that I just wanted to cry and go home. But we won. How funny is that? But I did have THE BIGGEST HEART ATTACK OF MY LIFE when Greta accidentally switched the allocation and I thought that she was saying my arguments and that we had the exact same speech. It turns out she didn’t, but for a minute during the debate I think my heart stopped beating, and suicide was just a pen away. We ended on a positive note however. Dammit, I wanted to make the quarters and semi’s!! I was in it to WIN IT this year, it’s the only reason why I sacrificed my sanity and eye-sight and endured the unending masses of bullshit and illness. Seriously as soon as I arrived home I changed and collapsed onto my bed, and when I woke up I had a chest infection (and still do) so bad that it HURTS TO BREATHE. I am so ill from receiving an average of 3 hours sleep every night that I can feel the pain radiating in every single one of my alveoli. (lol, year 8 science)
What an inexorably shit-arse day. Please, excuse my language. Anyway I bought my comfort food and slowly ate my way into an msg-related death, I went shopping, not that that’s relevant and slept. Thus the highlight of my day. I want to retreat into a hole and cosy up with my Dostoevsky. Although it was very interesting to see how everyone dealt with their grief, in a totally unethical ambitious science project sort of way, it was interesting to witness our grieving process. There was Greta who comforted everyone and distracted herself, Stefanie who rattled on about needing 500kg of Oolong tea to calm her down, Libby had a quiet yet mournful shroud enveloping her with a dark ambience and I, I had my anger and violent intentions like the fiery Aries that I am (not that I believe in superstition anyway). The train ride home had been eventful though, it was an ultimate bitchfest (to be frank) about the injustices of John Roe!
Gosh, okay I didn’t know how bitchy this blog was. My sincerest apologies but venting was in order. I will now proceed to rummage through the pantry for chocolate as I salvage my dignity from charred ruins of our history debating failure.
On a positive note, I won’t to work myself into exhaustion anymore. :) Now I can focus on my Modern historical Investigation and my Extension English seminar.... oh joy. LOL.
I SINCERELY HOPE THAT YOUR DAY WAS BETTER THAN MINE.
P.S There was a hilarious occasion though when halfway through Libby’s refutation she inserted an inside joke and simultaneously we cracked up so hard. Although silently of course. We crying and shaking in our seats in effort to contain ourselves and our laughter. I swear I hadn’t laughed so hard since Dyanne made that joke about Brendan Nelson during Rudd’s sorry speech.
How am I feeling at the moment? So demoralised like Japan without its Emperor Hirohito.
How did my day begin? Excellently, actually. How did it end? Disastrously.
This morning I woke up with nothing but victory and success on my mind I was breezing through the morning singing “V-I-C, V-I-C, V-I-C-T-O-R-Y! Victory! Victory is our cry!” Despite the fact that I had a grand total of three hours of sleep and arose bleary-eyed like corey worthington with a hangover (I do despise this bloke SO MUCH and how he besmirches the name of teenagers everywhere – he doesn’t deserve capitalisation!!) I had showered and dressed immaculately, gathered my hair in a French Twist and did my make up perfectly. I was like a glimmering stallion on race day – I was Makybe Diva at the Melbourne Cup. Although we had to be at Westmead at an ungodly hour and I had an obscene amount of coins weighing my purse I was like –yeah! We can do this! We’re prepared! Evidently I was optimistic and continued to be optimistic all the way down to Hurlstone Agricultural in freaking Glenfield which is literally out in whoop-whoop land – I had never been in that direction, it was like we required a passport just to traverse there.
Anyway, we stepped off the train and suddenly there’s like this herd (pardon the pun) of Hurlstone students exiting the train. It was like Marist and McAuley at Westmead station only exemplified because Glenfield is about the size of a peanut. There was literally this exodus of students inundating the stairs and we had to walk up their asphalt pathway (does not compare to King’s at all! I’d rather almost tripping on the grass any day!) bypassing these bizarre archaic agricultural instruments on the way to their main office – which mind you was like a mission to get to. Thank God for the invention of signs and the very hospitable students. Quite frankly, despite the relatively dodgy state of their school, the students were very magnanimous and hospitable and apparently according to their office trophy-case, excellent horse breeders. O_O
Omitting all the tedious formalities, here we are at 9:25am, T-minus five minutes to total destruction. I swear I think Hurlstone had an intimidation tactic up their sleeve, they sent students as spectators and the year ten history classes to watch. So quite literally we were so engulfed with Hurlstone I felt like a bloody reject (once again, I am comfortable at King’s another reason why our expatriation off to whoop-whoop land was so unjustified). The only thing that calmed me down at that point was quite frankly a marvellous conversation with the time-keeper about Dostoevsky. (Ok how much of an ENGLISH NERD did I sound like just then – I was calmed down by discussing Russian Literature. Gosh, deeh, you are unbelievable). In short: we lost.
Ok, now here is the part when I become really bitchy and rant, and I apologise for any colourful language or enraged assertions I will make at this point, but that loss was poignant to me I wanted to literally shove my pen up my nose and bang my head on the table like that girl in Japan who did it with a pencil as she was unable to handle the pressure. We lost upon the stupidest reason – I swear to God that senile adjudicator, John Roe needs to just walk off a cliff or something or re-educate himself on how to adjudicate correctly – we lost on TECHNICALITY. Because we spoke OVERTIME. I’ll take that into consideration, however when you look upon the debate as a whole, we totally kicked their ass. It was so bleeding obvious that we lucidly had won, our arguments were thoroughly (PAINSTAKINGLY) researched – literally we left no stone unturned. Our arguments were titanium steel – our refutations were flawless we spent SIX WEEKS on that debate. We went to the State Library!!! We had expected the team to have a good quality argument. Instead, their argument was so poorly researched and NOT SUBSTATNTIATED may I add (No use of historians or historical facts – pure assertion!) Their refutations consisted primarily of speculation and their arguments were all over the place. Their third speaker was horrible! He stuttered and lost his place and confused his palm cards and said nothing of substantial matter. Then you have Libby who TORE DOWN their case like it was a discarded catalogue left out on a wet day. Literally she shredded them to pieces (we all did) as their arguments were so basic it was laughable (lol but we did employ the strategy of pretending to verse a team of Vales here, and the Hurlstone team did not even compare). And yet we lost on the bullshit reason that we spoke too long and that the other team didn’t. Well, the only reason why they didn’t is because they had no argument or research to fill the time! We went over time because we were so prepared. I swear we annihilated them like the tanks of Tiananmen Square!
What absolutely shits me is that they didn’t even know what side they were on! That ignoramus of an adjudicator said “which is why I give it to the affirmative” and they’re like – what? Is that us? God, I wanted to shoot her. Violent intentions aside, I was so demoralised and shattered. Literally my pride and dignity was so shattered it was all over the floor. This was our fundamental debate. We knew that no matter what happens – no matter if we lost the other two the Japan one would be our definite win because we were so meticulous and prepared. But no we lost on the (excuse me) fucking bullshit basis of time constraints. Everyone – including ALL the Hurlstone spectators and history students had approached us saying that we should have won. The chairperson and time keeper said that we should have won – they even made little arrows on their notes saying “They’re going to win.” The Hurlstone team, the opposition themselves and their friends approached us saying that we should have won – everyone in that room except for stupid John Roe! He was telling us why we lost and everything with his black scarf around his neck with the label “cashmere” emblazoned on the front and all I wanted to do was grab it and strangle him with it! He can just die by a cashmere noose! That’s a dignified death for you!
Anyway, so there was our team and school pride lying in tatters and all I wanted to was bloody commit suicide by shooting myself in the uterus! I was demoralised I did not care anymore. That utter loss, gosh, I wanted to commit seppuku and hara-kiri myself like the Japanese War General Anami after he signed the surrender. Usually I can take defeat, I’m fine with defeat because usually I can say okay “This is where we went wrong, this is why we lost, I know why we lost” and I am able to fault myself, but this, this is just – urgh there are no words. We all agree as a team, that such a travesty would not have occurred at King’s. There they base their adjudication upon historical matter, not freaking time constraints! I am lodging an appeal! (*ahem*)
Then there was a short recess where in which we licked our wounds in a spectacularly bitchy fashion. Hurlstone had these lovely apple crumble pieces however, once again, they do not compare to the delightful assortment of fruit and those indulgent chocolate muffin things King’s has. One of these days, I will commit other acts of espionage and steal the recipe from their kitchens. *devious look* In short we didn’t care about the contemporary historical film one, having had our pride utterly destroyed as though it were the twin towers and we were defeated again to William Clarke. Now whatever pride I had managed to salvage off the proverbial floor was completely eradicated then as we lost to this newbie school whom of which had never debated before. It cuts me that I was a semi-finalist, Libby is a debating machine and Stef had done this before, and Greta was a good public speaker we were the McAuley dream team and we lost on the basis of ONE LINE. We lost on the fact that we failed to refute this one sentence. But I could tell that the debate was EXTREMELY close though because the two adjudicators took quite literally, half an hour to decide. All the while waiting I wanted to jump out the window or shoot myself in the uterus.
But the girls from William Clarke were really nice, very polite and delightful women and approached us saying that we should have won despite that they were also challenging. Once again, the adjudication was ludicrous. I honestly do wish them luck in their future debates as they were so kind and approachable. LOL they said that didn’t know how to refute because of our extended vocabulary and internally I was rejoicing because I was like “Yep! That was the intention!” I harnessed my English-prowess! Yet again I was bleeding on the crags of defeat. Last night my parents recognised my stress and offered me sauvignon blanc. LOL! I wanted that sauvignon blanc at that very moment. It was like history debating version of Sophie Delezio’s life story. First we were burned and suffered and annihilated into critical condition and then WHAM! CAR CRASH! Like a double-whammy, kick ‘em while their down, utter humiliating situation. But we soldiered on into the final debate.
By that time we were utterly exhausted like you don’t understand. We were so incomprehensibly wrung out that I just wanted to cry and go home. But we won. How funny is that? But I did have THE BIGGEST HEART ATTACK OF MY LIFE when Greta accidentally switched the allocation and I thought that she was saying my arguments and that we had the exact same speech. It turns out she didn’t, but for a minute during the debate I think my heart stopped beating, and suicide was just a pen away. We ended on a positive note however. Dammit, I wanted to make the quarters and semi’s!! I was in it to WIN IT this year, it’s the only reason why I sacrificed my sanity and eye-sight and endured the unending masses of bullshit and illness. Seriously as soon as I arrived home I changed and collapsed onto my bed, and when I woke up I had a chest infection (and still do) so bad that it HURTS TO BREATHE. I am so ill from receiving an average of 3 hours sleep every night that I can feel the pain radiating in every single one of my alveoli. (lol, year 8 science)
What an inexorably shit-arse day. Please, excuse my language. Anyway I bought my comfort food and slowly ate my way into an msg-related death, I went shopping, not that that’s relevant and slept. Thus the highlight of my day. I want to retreat into a hole and cosy up with my Dostoevsky. Although it was very interesting to see how everyone dealt with their grief, in a totally unethical ambitious science project sort of way, it was interesting to witness our grieving process. There was Greta who comforted everyone and distracted herself, Stefanie who rattled on about needing 500kg of Oolong tea to calm her down, Libby had a quiet yet mournful shroud enveloping her with a dark ambience and I, I had my anger and violent intentions like the fiery Aries that I am (not that I believe in superstition anyway). The train ride home had been eventful though, it was an ultimate bitchfest (to be frank) about the injustices of John Roe!
Gosh, okay I didn’t know how bitchy this blog was. My sincerest apologies but venting was in order. I will now proceed to rummage through the pantry for chocolate as I salvage my dignity from charred ruins of our history debating failure.
On a positive note, I won’t to work myself into exhaustion anymore. :) Now I can focus on my Modern historical Investigation and my Extension English seminar.... oh joy. LOL.
I SINCERELY HOPE THAT YOUR DAY WAS BETTER THAN MINE.
P.S There was a hilarious occasion though when halfway through Libby’s refutation she inserted an inside joke and simultaneously we cracked up so hard. Although silently of course. We crying and shaking in our seats in effort to contain ourselves and our laughter. I swear I hadn’t laughed so hard since Dyanne made that joke about Brendan Nelson during Rudd’s sorry speech.
Wednesday, 14 May 2008
It's still bothering me
...how he was flirting with me and I didn't even realise it. And when I finally did it was SIX DAYS LATER.
I am still astounded at the density of my brain. Just because I don't think in primarily sexual innuendo - gah!
Lo and Dyz picked it up so easily.
EVEN MANTHEY DID!!!!
Oh.
Well.
IF.
IF HE WAS indeed flirting,then at least I know that he cares :P
I am still astounded at the density of my brain. Just because I don't think in primarily sexual innuendo - gah!
Lo and Dyz picked it up so easily.
EVEN MANTHEY DID!!!!
Oh.
Well.
IF.
IF HE WAS indeed flirting,then at least I know that he cares :P
REALLY!!!! SHORT.
WHY MUST I BE SO DENSE!!!!!
SO DENSE IN FACT THAT IT TOOK ME SIX DAYS TO REALISE THAT THE OBJECT OF MY AFFECTIONS MAY HAVE JUST BEEN -
ARRGGGH!!
WHY!!!
Note: this is the cleansed, edited version.
SO DENSE IN FACT THAT IT TOOK ME SIX DAYS TO REALISE THAT THE OBJECT OF MY AFFECTIONS MAY HAVE JUST BEEN -
ARRGGGH!!
WHY!!!
Note: this is the cleansed, edited version.
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
My mellow Tuesday - EXAMS ARE OVER!!
Um to those that actually read this, congratulations - you've manage to endure the crap that are my blogs. I'm bored, so I post them, or I'm attempting to surmount a writer's block here, so still I post them. Well, how was the Modern History Exam, everyone? Good? Bad? A-Okay?
Personally, it was much easier than I had previously anticipated. =D There were only "Discuss" and "Describe" questions, which was quite simplistic, if you ask me. I was becoming to enthralled with writing up the Kennedy question because I loved that topic, and I think he's awesome. So, anyway all in all the Exam was quite good, the questions weren't too hard "Describe the role of Martin Luther King in the Civil Rights Movement of 50's and 60's"? That was a little too easy if you ask me, and rather broad. Only I had been so relieved about finishing the exam that I had forgotten my entire folder of Modern notes, and classwork up there in the Morley Centre, and had went through three teachers in order to find it - only to discover that it was left on the History Co-ordinator's desk. LOL She thinks we're best buds or something. Although, I am indebted to her for rearranging the entire bloody timetable just so I could actually study Modern, in the first place. I really do hope she doesn't take a peek at it. I have sloppily unfinished work in there.... and stuff not handed in... and remnants of Miss R's incompetent teaching... crap, I really have to retrieve that folder soon.
Okay, well, I'm rambling.
Today, I had every intention of sleeping in, but NO. Louie had to be crying for some unintelligible reason which was like a bloody alarm clock. But anyway, my dad and I went to the bank today and I opened an account. LOL, I'm serious, and then had to inform the lady (whose name was Jan - I think that's a little cliche) that I lost my tax file number years ago...In any case, it's all due to my mum's passionate desire to have me embark on this endeavour into internet businesses and have me selling my stories/photography online and hoarding zillions of dollars from it. Hmmm, self-employed at 16, wouldn't that be lovely? I only wish that I actually possessed the time to invest in such a project.
In any case, in such spare time, I've managed to rewrite the opening of Chapter 2, I am much more satisfied with it now! :) I feel the need to edit Chapter 1, though. Also did a little History Debating, after that debacle the other week that left me with a massive coronary with that extra debate and I'm freaking out. We can do this, intense historical discussion will indeed ensue. And I've got that English speech landed upon me like a freight train, and that's also due. I wish there was an onomatopoeic word to indicate a 'sigh.' Well, I have to go soon and pick up Louie again from Basketball training, I already had to walk up there once to pick him up from school and endure the honking and whistles from those horny/perverted labourers in their utes or those people in their suped up WRX's with their head stuck halfway out the window. It's not like I was wearing anything provocative anyway, gah I hate walking up reservoir road. I'm rambling again, and going on this freaky nonsensical tangent so I'll refocus.
I felt so deprived yesterday afternoon I had been SOOOO looking forward to having a celebratory viewing of 'Fight Club' once exams were over. But NO. TJ has been unavailable, and so I spent Monday night in an abysmal tedium (is that even a word?). Oh and I recently received an email from my cousin in America with a video attached. The video is like totally praising my family and their military efforts which I think, kicks-ass. Congratulations to my cousin Jeremiah, though on becoming - what was it? I'll check again - he was "promoted from Marine Sergeant to 2nd Lieutenant" pretty cool. Also my uncle who's a retired Navy Officer, my aunt who was in the US army and my illustrious grandad was there, in Phoenix to see him receive his medal. LOL my grandfather was receiving this full profile and praise, and I was like -WHOA I didn't know that! I mean I knew he assisted the American war effort in the Philippines by decoding Japanese plans and climbed to Lieutenant Colonel in Philippine airforce - but I had no idea that he became a geurilla fighter at age FOURTEEN. I mean, the man was living in my house just last month before they went back to the states - HOW COULD I NOT KNOW THAT?
Watching that video makes me go shiiiiitt... my family is cool. LOL. My cousins and aunts were featured on that vid, I think that's awesome. Anyhoo, I'm quite tired from having to ferry back and forth from Louie's basketball so I'll end this soon.
ROFLMAO. I just received a call from Tim, and he's stuck at Penrith! LOL he fell asleep from Central to Penrith on the train, so I'm assuming he'd be late. (Insert 'sigh' sound here). I should be returning to the Himalayas worth of work I have stacked up here...
Ciao, ciao my loves,
Until next time -
- deeh xox
Personally, it was much easier than I had previously anticipated. =D There were only "Discuss" and "Describe" questions, which was quite simplistic, if you ask me. I was becoming to enthralled with writing up the Kennedy question because I loved that topic, and I think he's awesome. So, anyway all in all the Exam was quite good, the questions weren't too hard "Describe the role of Martin Luther King in the Civil Rights Movement of 50's and 60's"? That was a little too easy if you ask me, and rather broad. Only I had been so relieved about finishing the exam that I had forgotten my entire folder of Modern notes, and classwork up there in the Morley Centre, and had went through three teachers in order to find it - only to discover that it was left on the History Co-ordinator's desk. LOL She thinks we're best buds or something. Although, I am indebted to her for rearranging the entire bloody timetable just so I could actually study Modern, in the first place. I really do hope she doesn't take a peek at it. I have sloppily unfinished work in there.... and stuff not handed in... and remnants of Miss R's incompetent teaching... crap, I really have to retrieve that folder soon.
Okay, well, I'm rambling.
Today, I had every intention of sleeping in, but NO. Louie had to be crying for some unintelligible reason which was like a bloody alarm clock. But anyway, my dad and I went to the bank today and I opened an account. LOL, I'm serious, and then had to inform the lady (whose name was Jan - I think that's a little cliche) that I lost my tax file number years ago...In any case, it's all due to my mum's passionate desire to have me embark on this endeavour into internet businesses and have me selling my stories/photography online and hoarding zillions of dollars from it. Hmmm, self-employed at 16, wouldn't that be lovely? I only wish that I actually possessed the time to invest in such a project.
In any case, in such spare time, I've managed to rewrite the opening of Chapter 2, I am much more satisfied with it now! :) I feel the need to edit Chapter 1, though. Also did a little History Debating, after that debacle the other week that left me with a massive coronary with that extra debate and I'm freaking out. We can do this, intense historical discussion will indeed ensue. And I've got that English speech landed upon me like a freight train, and that's also due. I wish there was an onomatopoeic word to indicate a 'sigh.' Well, I have to go soon and pick up Louie again from Basketball training, I already had to walk up there once to pick him up from school and endure the honking and whistles from those horny/perverted labourers in their utes or those people in their suped up WRX's with their head stuck halfway out the window. It's not like I was wearing anything provocative anyway, gah I hate walking up reservoir road. I'm rambling again, and going on this freaky nonsensical tangent so I'll refocus.
I felt so deprived yesterday afternoon I had been SOOOO looking forward to having a celebratory viewing of 'Fight Club' once exams were over. But NO. TJ has been unavailable, and so I spent Monday night in an abysmal tedium (is that even a word?). Oh and I recently received an email from my cousin in America with a video attached. The video is like totally praising my family and their military efforts which I think, kicks-ass. Congratulations to my cousin Jeremiah, though on becoming - what was it? I'll check again - he was "promoted from Marine Sergeant to 2nd Lieutenant" pretty cool. Also my uncle who's a retired Navy Officer, my aunt who was in the US army and my illustrious grandad was there, in Phoenix to see him receive his medal. LOL my grandfather was receiving this full profile and praise, and I was like -WHOA I didn't know that! I mean I knew he assisted the American war effort in the Philippines by decoding Japanese plans and climbed to Lieutenant Colonel in Philippine airforce - but I had no idea that he became a geurilla fighter at age FOURTEEN. I mean, the man was living in my house just last month before they went back to the states - HOW COULD I NOT KNOW THAT?
Watching that video makes me go shiiiiitt... my family is cool. LOL. My cousins and aunts were featured on that vid, I think that's awesome. Anyhoo, I'm quite tired from having to ferry back and forth from Louie's basketball so I'll end this soon.
ROFLMAO. I just received a call from Tim, and he's stuck at Penrith! LOL he fell asleep from Central to Penrith on the train, so I'm assuming he'd be late. (Insert 'sigh' sound here). I should be returning to the Himalayas worth of work I have stacked up here...
Ciao, ciao my loves,
Until next time -
- deeh xox
Saturday, 26 April 2008
4:48am supervising inebriated teens. Joy.
This was taken from my Myspace Blog. I know. A rarity.
Hello, if you're actually reading this then wow, welcome to my life. This is how my fruitful ANZAC Day transpired.
If you're still reading, congratulations.
I am currently bored out of my mind here, the fact that I'm using my 'Myspace' Blog is evidence of that. This is seriously unhealthy and transforming me into a nocturnal creature but I gave my word to my mother that I'd supervise them downstairs, provide plastic bags and tupperware if they require a place to project their spew into or tissues, or money for cabs. Why do I, barely 16, currently need to supervise a bunch of 18/19 year olds?
It was Tim's 18th birthday bash. Yay. I was bracing myself for this, as were my parents, and we had incredibly valid reason to. Tim's quite the popular guy, you see. Very popular. Earlier my backyard was transformed into the epitome of teenage partying and all manner of adolescent horror. It was Absinthe, Jim Beam, Johnny Walker, Black label, Smirnoff, Absolut galore! Hmm, terrifying. Now I'm disputing anything against alcohol, I mean sure, it's a social lubricant, it instigates the party - oh whoops there Tim goes again - I better check on him, make sure he doesn't choke on his own... stomach content. Back, and the guys downstairs wanted cereal. Odd. It's 5am, nice and early breakfast. Anyway, I digress, as I was saying. The backyard turned into a nightclub - I am quite serious - could you blame them though? The DJ was awesome. Tim went out frequently to buy drinks etc. pick up people.
The girls were the first to go. Joan was just goooone. She doesn't usually like drinking but she has a rather petite physique so I wasn't surprised that she was lolling around quite quickly. I then had to spend the night comforting her because she was so upset about not letting her parents see her in that sordid condition. She also requested no help from my mother because she didn't want to taint her 'good girl' reputation, I mean hey, I wouldn't either. Her younger brother was also so cute taking care of her. She was the first to throw up. In times like these I wish so terribly that we had a second toilet downstairs. There was a spewing line, if that's what you could call it. Of girls. We had to provide seats along the hallway for girls too inebriated to stand and wait for our crowded bathroom. There were girls in the lounge room lolling around their boyfriends too drunk to even slur a sentence together. It reminded me distinctly of those nineteenth century 'fainting rooms' for women who had to go in and faint because their corsets were depleting their oxygen consumption. Like Elizabeth Swan in Pirates of the Caribbean.
Tim was so smashed, I really can't find another word for it, shitfaced would suffice too. Anyway, he was so far gone he didn't even look drunk anymore. He looked stoned. Stoned to the point that Krish (his wonderful, wonderful girlfriend, he is SO lucky to have her) was very concerned that there could have been drugs at this party. (I doubt it, my parents were monitoring). But seriously, even his vanity could not revive him from his drunken stupor (We tried telling him that he was fat, and gay, but he just gave us the thumbs up). It would be hilarious had I not been so concerned. Then he threw up all over the couch. We managed to grab a bowl in time, but not in time to save the blanket, or the pillows, or his very nice shirt. We managed to clean him up all right - but guess who had to take out the towel, and the blanket and the pillows? Me! Joy! And seriously, the re-examination of my older brother's recent food choices was absolutely grotesque. I was horrified. It was without a doubt, one of the most disgusting things I had ever deigned to accomplish. On a practical note however, I seriously think Tim needs to consider chewing his food more. He passed out first. Krish stayed vigilantly by his side and rubbed his back every time he had to upchuck and made sure he had enough water. etc. She's so nurturing. Anyway, evidently Tim left early for his party.
If you are still reading this, I commend you greatly for your ability to withstand the tediousness of my random drivel.
Who else consumed my time? Oh Shivon, dear, dear Shivon. She was a hilarious drunk, but the amount of times I had to see her Smirnoff and Orange juice flow from her mouth wasn't as funny. She's such a lovely girl, but when she's inebriated she's all limbs and spew and eyeballs rolling into the back of her head. We had to permanently attach the plastic bag to her ears. She was so drunk it was inconceivable. She required three people to help her walk. I was one of them. My mum just looked around with this gravely disapproving look but mopped the floor with me all the same. Poor girl, we had to drive her home. There was other drama and controversy such as this random perverted bloke from somewhere along the street taking advantage over a drunken girl (who for some unforseeable reason) decided to meander down our street alone. And drunk. Don't worry, it wasn't THAT bad but I saw the definite potential for it to become worse.
At the moment, there's about ten guys crashing in my living room, I would say sleeping, but crashing seems much more appropriate for their actions. Two of which, I am quite sure are eating cereal and I'm supervising them! Wow, I feel so mature. My mum was going to do this night vigil until they all fell asleep, but I could tell she was absolutely exhausted. So being the lovely daughter I am, I drank heaps of Coke (for the caffeine of course) and told her that I'd take over, watch over the drunkards in our living room for the night. I'm also keeping a night watch over Tim, he's spewing quite a lot and I'm really concerned. I mean hey, the first drummer of ACDC died because he choked on his own vomit. Stupid way to die, really. Idiotic. So here I am at 5:29am, I haven't slept a wink, and I'm blogging, wow, lol - random. I'm wondering about what I could do to pass the time and I should probably start on studying for English. The one subject I needed most time for, and I'm blowing it off jeez deeh, nice...nice. Well that seems like a very 'Dana' thing to do. When one is bored, study. LOL but I had better, I need to have King Lear read and analysed, like - now. Like I was meant to do it over the summer holidays, like I AM SO BEHIND!
I also need to write up the next newsletter and have it printed. Shit. Why do I take on so many extra curricular activities? I have barely started on Modern (can't think of that now) and I have History Debating to consider. I'm getting myself stressed out. I have English and English extension to do - I'll do that. Oh and my Japanese speech. Ah, shit - that too. I have spare time now, I'd better hop to it. But I feel like writing, I've finally finished and am relatively happy with my 7005 word Chapter one, and I'm currently on my second or third paragraph into Chapter Two. My dreams of becoming a novelist must wait, I guess... I'll read up on King Lear, or do Modern or something... I don't know.
I'm rambling now, and if you are reading it, wow. Just wow. You have an attention span beyond even mine. I had better check on the boys downstairs.
See you when I see you.
Until next time -
- deeh xox
Hello, if you're actually reading this then wow, welcome to my life. This is how my fruitful ANZAC Day transpired.
If you're still reading, congratulations.
I am currently bored out of my mind here, the fact that I'm using my 'Myspace' Blog is evidence of that. This is seriously unhealthy and transforming me into a nocturnal creature but I gave my word to my mother that I'd supervise them downstairs, provide plastic bags and tupperware if they require a place to project their spew into or tissues, or money for cabs. Why do I, barely 16, currently need to supervise a bunch of 18/19 year olds?
It was Tim's 18th birthday bash. Yay. I was bracing myself for this, as were my parents, and we had incredibly valid reason to. Tim's quite the popular guy, you see. Very popular. Earlier my backyard was transformed into the epitome of teenage partying and all manner of adolescent horror. It was Absinthe, Jim Beam, Johnny Walker, Black label, Smirnoff, Absolut galore! Hmm, terrifying. Now I'm disputing anything against alcohol, I mean sure, it's a social lubricant, it instigates the party - oh whoops there Tim goes again - I better check on him, make sure he doesn't choke on his own... stomach content. Back, and the guys downstairs wanted cereal. Odd. It's 5am, nice and early breakfast. Anyway, I digress, as I was saying. The backyard turned into a nightclub - I am quite serious - could you blame them though? The DJ was awesome. Tim went out frequently to buy drinks etc. pick up people.
The girls were the first to go. Joan was just goooone. She doesn't usually like drinking but she has a rather petite physique so I wasn't surprised that she was lolling around quite quickly. I then had to spend the night comforting her because she was so upset about not letting her parents see her in that sordid condition. She also requested no help from my mother because she didn't want to taint her 'good girl' reputation, I mean hey, I wouldn't either. Her younger brother was also so cute taking care of her. She was the first to throw up. In times like these I wish so terribly that we had a second toilet downstairs. There was a spewing line, if that's what you could call it. Of girls. We had to provide seats along the hallway for girls too inebriated to stand and wait for our crowded bathroom. There were girls in the lounge room lolling around their boyfriends too drunk to even slur a sentence together. It reminded me distinctly of those nineteenth century 'fainting rooms' for women who had to go in and faint because their corsets were depleting their oxygen consumption. Like Elizabeth Swan in Pirates of the Caribbean.
Tim was so smashed, I really can't find another word for it, shitfaced would suffice too. Anyway, he was so far gone he didn't even look drunk anymore. He looked stoned. Stoned to the point that Krish (his wonderful, wonderful girlfriend, he is SO lucky to have her) was very concerned that there could have been drugs at this party. (I doubt it, my parents were monitoring). But seriously, even his vanity could not revive him from his drunken stupor (We tried telling him that he was fat, and gay, but he just gave us the thumbs up). It would be hilarious had I not been so concerned. Then he threw up all over the couch. We managed to grab a bowl in time, but not in time to save the blanket, or the pillows, or his very nice shirt. We managed to clean him up all right - but guess who had to take out the towel, and the blanket and the pillows? Me! Joy! And seriously, the re-examination of my older brother's recent food choices was absolutely grotesque. I was horrified. It was without a doubt, one of the most disgusting things I had ever deigned to accomplish. On a practical note however, I seriously think Tim needs to consider chewing his food more. He passed out first. Krish stayed vigilantly by his side and rubbed his back every time he had to upchuck and made sure he had enough water. etc. She's so nurturing. Anyway, evidently Tim left early for his party.
If you are still reading this, I commend you greatly for your ability to withstand the tediousness of my random drivel.
Who else consumed my time? Oh Shivon, dear, dear Shivon. She was a hilarious drunk, but the amount of times I had to see her Smirnoff and Orange juice flow from her mouth wasn't as funny. She's such a lovely girl, but when she's inebriated she's all limbs and spew and eyeballs rolling into the back of her head. We had to permanently attach the plastic bag to her ears. She was so drunk it was inconceivable. She required three people to help her walk. I was one of them. My mum just looked around with this gravely disapproving look but mopped the floor with me all the same. Poor girl, we had to drive her home. There was other drama and controversy such as this random perverted bloke from somewhere along the street taking advantage over a drunken girl (who for some unforseeable reason) decided to meander down our street alone. And drunk. Don't worry, it wasn't THAT bad but I saw the definite potential for it to become worse.
At the moment, there's about ten guys crashing in my living room, I would say sleeping, but crashing seems much more appropriate for their actions. Two of which, I am quite sure are eating cereal and I'm supervising them! Wow, I feel so mature. My mum was going to do this night vigil until they all fell asleep, but I could tell she was absolutely exhausted. So being the lovely daughter I am, I drank heaps of Coke (for the caffeine of course) and told her that I'd take over, watch over the drunkards in our living room for the night. I'm also keeping a night watch over Tim, he's spewing quite a lot and I'm really concerned. I mean hey, the first drummer of ACDC died because he choked on his own vomit. Stupid way to die, really. Idiotic. So here I am at 5:29am, I haven't slept a wink, and I'm blogging, wow, lol - random. I'm wondering about what I could do to pass the time and I should probably start on studying for English. The one subject I needed most time for, and I'm blowing it off jeez deeh, nice...nice. Well that seems like a very 'Dana' thing to do. When one is bored, study. LOL but I had better, I need to have King Lear read and analysed, like - now. Like I was meant to do it over the summer holidays, like I AM SO BEHIND!
I also need to write up the next newsletter and have it printed. Shit. Why do I take on so many extra curricular activities? I have barely started on Modern (can't think of that now) and I have History Debating to consider. I'm getting myself stressed out. I have English and English extension to do - I'll do that. Oh and my Japanese speech. Ah, shit - that too. I have spare time now, I'd better hop to it. But I feel like writing, I've finally finished and am relatively happy with my 7005 word Chapter one, and I'm currently on my second or third paragraph into Chapter Two. My dreams of becoming a novelist must wait, I guess... I'll read up on King Lear, or do Modern or something... I don't know.
I'm rambling now, and if you are reading it, wow. Just wow. You have an attention span beyond even mine. I had better check on the boys downstairs.
See you when I see you.
Until next time -
- deeh xox
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