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Nov. 29th, 2005 01:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolI have yet to start my reading for That Damned Essay. I keep on telling myself I'll do it tomorrow. To be fair, I have all of tomorrow off (my one lecture is cancelled) if you don't count my psychology testing. But I know I won't do it. And I won't do it tonight, either. Oh no. I know for a fact that I will watch Firefly for three hours and then do the cooking again.
Speaking of cooking, I went over my budget today. The Ottoman Empire made me hungry, dammit, (and sleepy, appalling lecturer) so I went and bought a chicken pastie before going to buy the stir fry stuff and also some cheese as we have none. To be fair, I will get about 80p back from this massive expense therefore neatly pushing me under the limit again, but I am meant to be saving. I plan on going to the Bop this Friday (BAD PLAN ESSAY ALERT ESSAY ALERT). This means saving for two days to afford the entrance and using the last of the Glen's Vodka and some Lidl Orangensaft as my drinks for the evening. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I'm back to the college days of buying one mixer all night and slowly diluting it until you can't see it anymore.
Happy days, or something like that.
So. Tutorial in twenty minutes. I don't know when our tutorials got so political, but the plan involves me killing a member of the group with my brain, or something like that. (I am aware this quote exists but I am only up to Safe, although I know I will have watched there rest of the season by Thursday. It's going to happen.) It is becoming quite amusing, actually. I am a little terrified to say my part in this, though, as I suspect he will be circling and looking for a reason to beat me and drag me to the ground intellectually. Another member of the group confidently informed me this would never happen despite original members best attempts.
I swear to God, I didn't start this. It sort of evolved through seven weeks of academic bitching, the North-South divide and also an imagined football rivalry despite the fact I don't support bloody Liverpool. Whoops.
I liked the Shakespeare thing last night and cried at the end. It's bloody A Midsummer's Nights Dream. There is something deeply wrong with that. I get far too affected by TV, you know that? I was also mildy confused by the Macunian Puck, but I've never read the play and only vaguely know the outline, so if any intellectuals can explain, feel free.
Right. The witch-craze. Hear me academically roar.
~Hathy_Col~
Speaking of cooking, I went over my budget today. The Ottoman Empire made me hungry, dammit, (and sleepy, appalling lecturer) so I went and bought a chicken pastie before going to buy the stir fry stuff and also some cheese as we have none. To be fair, I will get about 80p back from this massive expense therefore neatly pushing me under the limit again, but I am meant to be saving. I plan on going to the Bop this Friday (BAD PLAN ESSAY ALERT ESSAY ALERT). This means saving for two days to afford the entrance and using the last of the Glen's Vodka and some Lidl Orangensaft as my drinks for the evening. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I'm back to the college days of buying one mixer all night and slowly diluting it until you can't see it anymore.
Happy days, or something like that.
So. Tutorial in twenty minutes. I don't know when our tutorials got so political, but the plan involves me killing a member of the group with my brain, or something like that. (I am aware this quote exists but I am only up to Safe, although I know I will have watched there rest of the season by Thursday. It's going to happen.) It is becoming quite amusing, actually. I am a little terrified to say my part in this, though, as I suspect he will be circling and looking for a reason to beat me and drag me to the ground intellectually. Another member of the group confidently informed me this would never happen despite original members best attempts.
I swear to God, I didn't start this. It sort of evolved through seven weeks of academic bitching, the North-South divide and also an imagined football rivalry despite the fact I don't support bloody Liverpool. Whoops.
I liked the Shakespeare thing last night and cried at the end. It's bloody A Midsummer's Nights Dream. There is something deeply wrong with that. I get far too affected by TV, you know that? I was also mildy confused by the Macunian Puck, but I've never read the play and only vaguely know the outline, so if any intellectuals can explain, feel free.
Right. The witch-craze. Hear me academically roar.
~Hathy_Col~
