No more whiny posts! Probably.
Jan. 23rd, 2005 05:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolSo, I was a whiny bitch this week. I'm a whiny bitch on my LJ a lot, to be fair, but I was really bad this week. I did have the WEEK FROM HELL, in my doubtful defence, but now it is over and I am going to be POSITIVE.
For example, my heart has just stopped beating because BSG guests have been announced for C7. Fingers crossed, Iona will be thoroughly obsessed by then, Am-Chau should be too. KATEE SACHOFF. YES, PEOPLE, STARBUCK. AND TRICIA HELFER! NUMBER SIX! AND JAMIE BAMBER!
I am going to have no money left by the end of this convention. Because, y'know... Starbuck.
Clare's going to hit me with a frying pan, isn't she? But oh god, I'm so in full-on fandom mode. SQUEE.
Erm, yes. Friday night was the slow return to the happy Colleen you know and tolerate, as after my post I ate very quickly and went out driving. Not too badly, either. Apart from the fact that being told "Reach the point of turn" leaves me mentally humming "Past the point of no return/no looking back now!" which is unfortunate as reversing generally involves looking backwards. Came home, and Andrew picked me up in his decidedly swish car. I feel better by the fact that he'd just borrowed it from his Mum for the night. Anyway, Andrew was also feeling minted and paid for me to go and see White Noise.
God, that film choice was a mistake. I am a Big Girly Wuss and I was cowering in fear by the end of the trailers. They consisted of one for the computer game (He wakes up! And the thing is there too! And argh!) one for the new Robert De Niro film with small scary children, and one for Ring 2. As soon as the well came on screen I put my head under my coat and refused to come out until it had gone away. There was also one for Constantine, which would look really good, actually, but the scary part of Keanu Reeves. He really can't act, can he? According to SFX, the character is supposed to come from Liverpool, for a start. I'm hurt and I'm not even part of the fandom. The film itself was a bit crap, actually - really scary first half and then it just stopped making sense. Never mind. I spent much of the film hissing angrily at Andrew "We could have seen Closer with the pole dancers, but NO!" I'll miss him when he leaves for London.
Saturday began early. I need new boots something dreadful, and Mum agreed to fund the boots. However, she claims to know nothing of them. As a joke, about a week ago, I said "Can I not just get Doc Martins?" This suggestion was quashed, and I do need walking boots for Guidey-type stuff, and I have no problem wearing them in every occasion almost all the time. Anyway, Thursday night Dad declared that I should get Doc Martins.
"They'll last you until you die," he said thoughtfully. Personally, I think he's actually doing a little jig of joy that I really am turning into him. He didn't need sons after all, he had me. My Dad, for those that care, is an aging rocker dude. He owns three guitars ("I'd have a bass but your mum would kill me") is planning on growing his hair and beard when he retires and also plans on getting a trike. The three-wheeled Harley type. My Dad, in short, is really rather cool. He owns two pairs of Doc Martins - a pair of shoes that he still wears for work after SEVENTEEN YEARS in his current profession and a grey pair of boots that are older than I am. "I'd still wear them, but they don't fit," he told me mournfully yesterday.
So, early in the morning, we got up and before work went around Southport looking for Doc Martins. We didn't find any whatsoever, which was a shame, and Dad seemed more upset than me. I planned to go to Liverpool on Thursday evening and get them, as I need to buy a tongue retainer for America to stop the nonsense of metal detecters. So, I went off to work, and Dad greets me in the car. "I found a website!" he told me happily. "Order them tonight and you should get them by Tuesday."
Well, I tried to get the blue pair but it cost an extra £10. So I went for the classic:
http://www.cloggs.co.uk/bin/venda?ex=co_disp-view&invt=25&bsref=cloggs
They are not pretty, really, but WOWCOOL. I have a student-y coat (I want to call it duffle but I'm not sure if that's the right word) flared jeans and Doc Martins. Bring on university! I like boots and these are going to be kicker to break in, but yay. Dad is enthusiastic and Mum thinks I'll look butch. No real change there then.
Also went out with Clare last night in a really rather impressive show of sponteneity. We're getting better at that, I think. Bloodybollockingcrappy exams meant she couldn't stay over, though, about which I think we were both fairly annoyed. To say the very very least.
Today I have been revising. Badly. I have got through all of politics they have taught me (DAMN the fact that I missed Friday and as such the federal bureaucracy) and I have re-ordered my Noah's Ark notes. I should really read them all again. What a depressing prospect, but then, English exam tomorrow morning.
And now I am off to eat food and then read all about the Panama Canal. *facepalm*
~Hathy_Col~
For example, my heart has just stopped beating because BSG guests have been announced for C7. Fingers crossed, Iona will be thoroughly obsessed by then, Am-Chau should be too. KATEE SACHOFF. YES, PEOPLE, STARBUCK. AND TRICIA HELFER! NUMBER SIX! AND JAMIE BAMBER!
I am going to have no money left by the end of this convention. Because, y'know... Starbuck.
Clare's going to hit me with a frying pan, isn't she? But oh god, I'm so in full-on fandom mode. SQUEE.
Erm, yes. Friday night was the slow return to the happy Colleen you know and tolerate, as after my post I ate very quickly and went out driving. Not too badly, either. Apart from the fact that being told "Reach the point of turn" leaves me mentally humming "Past the point of no return/no looking back now!" which is unfortunate as reversing generally involves looking backwards. Came home, and Andrew picked me up in his decidedly swish car. I feel better by the fact that he'd just borrowed it from his Mum for the night. Anyway, Andrew was also feeling minted and paid for me to go and see White Noise.
God, that film choice was a mistake. I am a Big Girly Wuss and I was cowering in fear by the end of the trailers. They consisted of one for the computer game (He wakes up! And the thing is there too! And argh!) one for the new Robert De Niro film with small scary children, and one for Ring 2. As soon as the well came on screen I put my head under my coat and refused to come out until it had gone away. There was also one for Constantine, which would look really good, actually, but the scary part of Keanu Reeves. He really can't act, can he? According to SFX, the character is supposed to come from Liverpool, for a start. I'm hurt and I'm not even part of the fandom. The film itself was a bit crap, actually - really scary first half and then it just stopped making sense. Never mind. I spent much of the film hissing angrily at Andrew "We could have seen Closer with the pole dancers, but NO!" I'll miss him when he leaves for London.
Saturday began early. I need new boots something dreadful, and Mum agreed to fund the boots. However, she claims to know nothing of them. As a joke, about a week ago, I said "Can I not just get Doc Martins?" This suggestion was quashed, and I do need walking boots for Guidey-type stuff, and I have no problem wearing them in every occasion almost all the time. Anyway, Thursday night Dad declared that I should get Doc Martins.
"They'll last you until you die," he said thoughtfully. Personally, I think he's actually doing a little jig of joy that I really am turning into him. He didn't need sons after all, he had me. My Dad, for those that care, is an aging rocker dude. He owns three guitars ("I'd have a bass but your mum would kill me") is planning on growing his hair and beard when he retires and also plans on getting a trike. The three-wheeled Harley type. My Dad, in short, is really rather cool. He owns two pairs of Doc Martins - a pair of shoes that he still wears for work after SEVENTEEN YEARS in his current profession and a grey pair of boots that are older than I am. "I'd still wear them, but they don't fit," he told me mournfully yesterday.
So, early in the morning, we got up and before work went around Southport looking for Doc Martins. We didn't find any whatsoever, which was a shame, and Dad seemed more upset than me. I planned to go to Liverpool on Thursday evening and get them, as I need to buy a tongue retainer for America to stop the nonsense of metal detecters. So, I went off to work, and Dad greets me in the car. "I found a website!" he told me happily. "Order them tonight and you should get them by Tuesday."
Well, I tried to get the blue pair but it cost an extra £10. So I went for the classic:
http://www.cloggs.co.uk/bin/venda?ex=co_disp-view&invt=25&bsref=cloggs
They are not pretty, really, but WOWCOOL. I have a student-y coat (I want to call it duffle but I'm not sure if that's the right word) flared jeans and Doc Martins. Bring on university! I like boots and these are going to be kicker to break in, but yay. Dad is enthusiastic and Mum thinks I'll look butch. No real change there then.
Also went out with Clare last night in a really rather impressive show of sponteneity. We're getting better at that, I think. Bloodybollockingcrappy exams meant she couldn't stay over, though, about which I think we were both fairly annoyed. To say the very very least.
Today I have been revising. Badly. I have got through all of politics they have taught me (DAMN the fact that I missed Friday and as such the federal bureaucracy) and I have re-ordered my Noah's Ark notes. I should really read them all again. What a depressing prospect, but then, English exam tomorrow morning.
And now I am off to eat food and then read all about the Panama Canal. *facepalm*
~Hathy_Col~
