Bitchy Mc Bitchface

When I enrolled in an Autobiography class I didn't expect that I'd have to buy a whole lot of set texts, read these said texts and then write essays referencing them.
In fact I didn't really expect to have to do anything except write some sort of blog-like essay minus the poor structure and grammar and maybe I'd get a B+ and a pat on the head.

I also didn't expect to have to listen between 3-5pm each Monday, to other people's ranting pieces in a classroom with no windows, tables or coffee breaks. Apart from the holiday-diary-like readings of guys talking about their fishing trips, some of the stories actually managed to keep me from banging my head on the wall (because there were no desks you see).

There was the reformed heroin addict who talked about what it was like shooting up and then eventually having all your friends drop dead. Then there was the nut-case ala 'Full Metal Jacket' who wrote about his stint in the army and all the drills word for word, he obviously knew them by heart .

I amused myself though much of the classes by whispering "I knew it!" to my only friend who sat next to me, listening politely and trying not to laugh. Then when a girl who I always labeled as "insane" began to talk about how much she hated psychologists it all got too much. The writing class was like a getting everyones diaries read out to you and me putting silent bets on what each person was going to reveal.

But don't worry readers, I'm sure by now you are hoping that I will get whats coming to me. Next Monday I will get my chance to read aloud and be silently mocked by my peers. Or possibly outwardly mocked, in the form of "constructive criticism". I haven't started writing anything yet because everything that happens in my life is too embarrassing to read aloud.

Anyway I'll leave you now with some (stolen) images of Parklife. These photos of people I don't know, nor want to know will demonstrate to you in visual terms why I will not be going to parklife EVER AGAIN.

Scribble pants

This semester I've learned how to make three kinds of Margarita cocktails, do a DIY chemical-carpet clean and figure out that cream cheese tastes incredible on dried figs. All this and still only one essay handed in. I know there are alot of blog posts about procrastination (especially in my own archives) so I'll leave it there. But you know I want to whine about secretly.

On the suspiciously similar re-hashed topic of going to University... I looked down at my notes the other day and realised that they looked almost as juvenile as my year 8 school planner, and that had pictures of Jebediah and Grinspoon stuck all over it.

It was a particularly boring class to be fair, an Art History subject taken by a pompous and well dressed old woman of 50 or so. She loved the sound of her own voice and would prattle on through a two hour tutorial for a duration for at least 128 minutes. If people didn't start walking out the door I fear the class would never have ended.
However her speaking orgy did not extend to when you actually had a real problem, then she'd simply say "I can't help you with that" and fly off on her broom back to her office where she'd listen to her own audio lectures with the blinds down caressing a toad.

Ok so she was fucking dull and irritating, you get the point. I looked at my notes and saw that they were more "vandalism" than "study buddy". I took some photographic proof because lets face it, I'm probably going to lose my notebook before the end of semester.
Sometimes these notes were subject-related but most of the time they were more like, um...raccoon? Sick of it yet? Ok I'll stop now, but now you know what it feels like to have straw instead of a brain. I'm off to see the Wizard! The Wonderful Wizard of Oz!

Bak2skool not as kool as Officeworks says

Whatever happened to blogging? Whatever happened to catching up with friends 5 days a week? I'll tell you, UNI. We're all back there. And those who aren't bak2skool are just pretending they are cos they don't like working at Safeway.

It's sad that Facebook is barren and that everyone is somewhere instead of nowhere, waiting for someone to ask them out for coffee.

But good news is here, I'm fighting the power! I'm bringing back the holiday spirit.
I just drank three cups of various teas in a row, stared at the off TV and spent a long time on the internet with my untouched essay open in Word.
Then I chased the cat around the house, slipping on the rug in the hall and falling hard on my knees, Cat 1 Svet 0. Cut sick I say.

Here are some activities to make you feel like you're not bak2skool and so you can cut sick like I am.

1. Buy some pizza and leave it in the fridge so when you wake up you can eat it for breaky, true holiday/weekend style.

2. Drink every night, even if you're at home alone in your pjs. Then you can wake up with that holiday hangover.

3. Wear dark glasses during the day, even in lecture theaters. The less you see the better anyway.

4. Wash your car in the street with a boom box cranked up really loud. Fuck water restrictions, this is about the holiday vibe. If you don't have a car, wash someone else's and sing "car-wash"to yourself.

5. Read blogs and blog some more yourself. If you don't have a blog hack into someone else's. Not mine.

6. Call your friends several times a day and when they stop answering, leave lots of voicemail messages. You need to appear social.

7. Wear slutty clothes to uni, like you've just come from a beach party. You won't stand out much if you go to Latrobe.

8. Go without underwear, its breezy.

9. When at work, adopt a split personality and make them do all the work. It's faux holiday time after all, you can't be expected to exert yourself.

10. And finally, Answer my poll, spend more time on Facebook and do not exercise.

Done with the dumps

As gross as that title sounded, what I actually meant was I'm "done with being down in the dumps". I'm no longer in limbo which is good, I actually got officially dumped which is bad. But for some reason it's not getting me that down.
I feel quite happy actually, I have alot more free time and lately it's been all about me. ME ME ME, selfish time with myself. Lots of long showers and DVDs, leisurely jogs around the park and lots of chocolate. This could also have had something to do with PMS. Whatever, I'm down wifit! You heard me.

So on with the ramblings of the self-indulgent blogger...
University doesn't usually teach me anything of interest that often except how to chow down an entire Indian meal in 5 minutes between classes or how to read text messages really subtly during lectures or how to avoid socialist propaganda vultures using my own aggressive style of self-defense. I rip their beards and throw soap at them, which really gets to them and they scream, My hair! My lack of hygiene! NOOO! Free David Hicks!!!!

But this time University taught me some shit. In my feminist class yesty my tutor/lecturer was boring us all with some Lacanian thought when she came out with one of her freaky facts.
She rarely does this but every now and then she'll say something straight out of Oddspot. One time she told us that a person who had undergone a liver transplant had also received another person's memories. Creepy.
And this time she told us that experiments have found... that if one person raises their index finger up and down for 10 minutes each day they have the same muscle development in a few weeks as a person who sits there for 10 minutes each day and imagines that they're raising their index finger up and down. It's called kinesthetics or something.

It got me thinking that I should start imagining a whole-body workout each day for half an hour or so. I could sit at home on the couch eating chocolate mousse and imagining I'm rock climbing or marathon running. Or even better I wouldn't even have to think if I watched The Biggest Loser for an hour. Just watching that show makes me tired, and no wonder. I'm getting a massive kinesthetics workout!

I'd like to leave you all today with a special treat from the erowid vaults (the what you say? Look here) So enjoy yourselves, lets all get closer together!