GUESS WHO'S GOT A NEW CAMERA

(but, apparently, no makeup!)

((normal service resumes shortly))

Plans/apologies

1) Should I stay in Nottingham next year? Seriously. It's easy, and I would have someone nice to live with. Is it a good idea to stick around? I'm not worried about starting again, I'm just lazy.

2) If not, where is a nice, cheap, friendly place for me to move to? I have very little experience of life outside the Midlands, but would like to change that. I fancy Wales or the coast but am entirely openminded. Any suggestions?

Help me out, Internet!


Edit: Thanks guys, but I'm staying put. I was lying about the nice housemate thing, though.

IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

Duh nuh nuh nah

Duhnah nuh ha ha.

Transamerica

This was strangely challenging.

On a basic level, I find it hard to imagine someone being so unhappy with their sex that they go to such extreme lengths to change it.

How much of transgendering is just an act, or rather a different act? The majority of female behaviour is socially conditioned anyway, and not sex-based at all. Bree wears dresses, has long hair and paints her fingernails. She dislikes camping and is scared of snakes. She is in some ways a parody of women, an exaggerated version of femininity. But I can't work out from the film how much of this is already part of Stanley's personality, and how much is a very brittle and desperate pretence in order to 'fool' society.

I found Bree more 'convincing' as Bree at the start of the film, before we got to know her as having once been Stanley, but I liked her more at the end, because I knew she had once been Stanley.

But there was no happy ending, which is good! In fact, there wasn't really an ending at all. Which is at least realistic.

...ink

Not the wand-stick thing so much. Or the spiral thing on the left.

Not black, either. White.

And not on my chest. Down the side of my ribcage, maybe, or on my inner elbow.

Apart from that, <3!

(Borrowed (stolen) from Your Meat is Mine: for French types only!)

Less moonlight, more birdies.

I thought the twist was going to be, the possum-mammoth was the crabby mammoth's long-lost daughter.

After setting her up as the love interest, though, I guess that would have been a bit edgy for a Disney movie.


I just hate happy endings, is all.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERIC

(Your present is this manipulated photo. Enjoy!)

HAPPY EASTER (I guess)

I don't really get Easter. It's one of those holidays I wouldn't miss if there was an amnesty on such things.

Rabbits don't eat eggs. They certainly don't hide eggs. Under normal circumstances, rabbits (contrary to the photographic evidence presented here) do not construct elaborate treasure-trails which lead small children to a hidden stash of eggs. If this were the case (which it is not), these eggs would not be brightly-coloured or, indeed, made of chocolate.

Easter is the most nonsensical holiday. It doesn't even have the good grace to be predictable.

Still, we get a Bank Holiday out of it and Bank Holidays are good days since they can involve picnics, road trips and pretty girls.

Don't worry, there's a happy ending

Last Friday, my dog went missing! She lives with my parents and she's nearly twenty years old and she's been diligently trying to escape for about eighteen, because she's a wily terrier and that's what they do. On Friday someone (my dad) left the back gate open for five minutes too long, and she finally managed it!

Somehow, no one bothered to tell me about this. My family's not big on communication. The first thing I knew was when I rocked up to the house on Monday afternoon to pick up a car for Birmingham Fun, and discovered the 'Lost Dog' sign in the front garden. This was a bit of a shock, to say the least, and I was quite upset but there really wasn't anything I could do. She doesn't wear a collar, she's not microchipped and she doesn't answer to her name (Meg). My parents and brother had done all the searching that could be done, and we were resigned to the idea that we probably wouldn't see her again.

Then, yesterday, when I went to drop the car back off (which I didn't quite manage, as it's now parked outside my house again), a lady had phoned the police who phoned us, asking did this description sound like our dog? It did! The lady had found her, outside a chip shop, ten miles from my parents' house. Ten miles! Not only that, but to get there she had to cross the A610 roundabout which is hella busy at all times and as far as I know we've never taught her to use a zebra crossing.

So, my parents went to pick her (Meg, not the lady) up. There was a bit of general celebration but then my mum nearly threw her (again, the dog) into the canal on the way home because she was whining so much. Meg's never really been a fan of car journeys. My dad's opinion is that someone found her wandering the streets, put her in their car (either to abduct her or rescue her) and then got so sick of her yapping from the backseat that they kicked her out a few miles down the road. However she got to that chip shop, she was in one piece and has had quite the adventure!

(I think my parents are a bit miffed to have her back to be honest, they were planning to go on holiday.)

I got a great idea (I'm gonna wait right here!)

Birmingham: good! Easier to get to than I had imagined. Gravelly Hill, while not technically on the itinerary, was still quite a nice area! The city seems like a good place. Motorways = piece of cake.

We Are Scientists: GREAT! Really, really great. I love their Californian accents and their bizarre patter about Birmingham and England and their noisy guitars and their stories which compell and their energy and playing four songs back to back because we hate adverts. And their music, of course. And especially the guitarist with the mustache. And the drummer with the beard. And the emo one with the sweaty fringe and the chipped tooth. Actually, no, that was a bit gross.

Crowds: bunch of losers, unfortunately. Gigs do not need to involve kissing; elbows; retarded "ironic" indie dancing. No more 'big venue' gigs for me! I guess I'm too old to enjoy fun.

Company: excellent, as always. Just not to be allowed to drive, or navigate!

Overall: A. (Next time, play a smaller, nicer venue.)

That's the government's job.

1) It's interesting how an actor can indicate emotions which aren't 'smug maniac' while wearing that particular mask. You quickly get used to ignoring his facial expression, and instead listen to his words, and read his gestures.

2) I realise now that the reason I don't like action movies is that they are not usually set to Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture.

Verdict: good!

LOOK WHAT MY SEXY HOUSEMATE BROUGHT ME BACK FROM LONDON

<3

Today:

. . . guaranteed reduction in the number of highly vocal objections to my dancing around the house to thirties' swing played at an offensive volume and/or my setting fire to the kitchen during dinner.

(Anyone looking for a housemate for next year?!)

Apparently the secret to winning pub quizzes

is to a) join a team with more knowledgable members and b) get their huge dreadlocked barman friend to stroll past and drop answers into your lap.

Apparently, I am not above cheating! Sorry, Ropewalk. In the end though everyone won, and by 'everyone' I mean 'our team' and that's what really counts, isn't it?

Other in-night (during-night? nightly? I don't know!) developments include: the world's most unexpected text message, which prompts me to ask: would you rather be ignored completely but allowed to live in hope, or would you rather be acknowledged but for the sole purpose of being disappointed? Answers on a postcard please!

it's all going to break

OH MY GOD SO GOOD

Support band: No idea what they were called, but they were the most laid-back thing I've ever heard. The lead singer had an emo fringe and looked so perpetually close to tears while singing about how he'd lost his hat or something that I wanted to give him a hug. Quite good, but a strange choice of support!

Musical interlude: the DJ played British Sea Power who I had forgotten about, and which led me to discovering this this morning, which I think I might go to!

Hope of the States: Four guitars, one singer, one drummer, a keyboard, and a bald violinist; a handful of songs from the old album and the EP, rather more from the new album; one boy standing next to me who I think I went to school with (but didn't like well enough to ask) and three scensters trying to mosh to the slow songs (well, ok, ALL the songs). No projections this time, and I don't know how much difference they make. Anyway, the Social is too small a venue to have a band in, nevermind anything like a projection screen. But they were noisy and energetic and played my favourite track three songs in and then Static in the Cities as a (hard-fought) encore, so everything I really wanted was there and the rest was just a lovely noisy bonus.

Eric complained the whole way through the night, and then got me up at 7am this morning to point him in the general direction of a bus stop. He did however bring me money and a CD full of photos so I guess the two things cancel each other out. Thanks kid!

about as close to making sense as I am ever going to get

It insanely hectic and it ruins your social life and you're always exhausted and you wake up in the middle of the night worrying about stuff you haven't done and there's no such thing as sensible footwear and you always work double shifts and customers are rude or daft and you always smell like coffee grounds and there's always something new to try and you never sleep because you are basically made of caffeine and you never get a day off and oh man it is so much fun and I miss it!

Speaking of (the lack of a) social life, tonight is the night when me and my bearded brother are going to let this man (see left, plus band not pictured) woo us with songs about wolves and over-industrialisation. Tomorrow I will probably moan about indie hipsters, the 'scene' and how much my feet hurt, but today I am so excited!

I still don't have a camera to record such momentous events but that's not really a problem because I imagine after the first song I will be too far gone to operate one anyway.

(Also: I wanted to report success on the Science tickets front. They landed on my doormat yesterday morning; I fell asleep on the sofa at 9pm last night. In between these things, I was mostly out. Somehow, I've still managed to lose them! Whoops.)

HEY YOU GUYS GUESS WHAT

I am going to work today!

(It will probably be a nightmare!)