lookalert

".....Because I am a caring, caring friend. And then I changed the subject, because I am a caring, caring friend. This is only possible over email. Otherwise I could tell the Lizard I was being held hostage by an Arabian prince who kept me as his sex slave, and I was having his baby, and she wouldn't listen, even if it WAS true. She'd say, "Oh, that's terrible. You know, it's a bit like when I...." and tell me about her awful experiences going out with one of my brother's friends who was a stoner.

Or something.

And meanwhile I would go away and quietly give birth to my arabian prince's love child, and go live in my harem, and she wouldn't actually notice.

Which is quite amusing really. I'm sure i'm the same.

Example: if G-Money was abducted by an arabian prince....no, I would pay attention in that situation, because it would confirm all my long held beliefs.

these bloody arabian princes -- got no control over their private parts.

[random mind image of well dressed arabian prince a la aladdin being pulled along by rampaging genitalia which has teeth.]"

.......Justin Marshall, who is a cross between an angry pornstar called Sparkle and a psychopathic meerkat which is very good at rugby.

Damn you, blogger. I am not writing that post again, because it SAYS it's there. Why can't I see it?

Because it's eaten it. That's why.

Bad blog. BAD.

My goodness I am tired and need to sleep. I have had a busy, busy week. Exam, exam, travel, wedding preparation, wedding, wedding present unwrapping, and now travel again....and then three days of frantic study, then exam. Then I can relax.

Maybe I'll just have a little nap...

Well, at least the bride was beautiful.

The three bridesmaids looked hideous. The groomsman were, respectively : Best man, partnered with P, over from England, very nice, slightly odd looking. Groomsman 1, partnered with me!, over from Gold Coast, very funny, fairly good looking. Groomsman 2, a bit of a dick really. And partnered with C.

The groom was nervous and mucked up his vows. The bride giggled all the way up the aisle. Mary giggled when the celebrant read part of the Velveteen Rabbit. "His hair is all loved off..."
And the groom is bald.

There were many photos. Mary is probably blinking in all of them. It took sexy groomsman at least 5 goes to get a decent picture of her and C. [Partly due to flash not going off.]

And yes, that is my exciting wedding story.

No, wait. We went to the wedding in a white stretch limousine! Very swish. We sat there and drank wine.

And in other exciting family news, The Older Brother has brought a girl home for the weekend! Oooooh. She is lovely. They are cute.

It makes me laugh.

What makes me laugh even more is that she's the girl next door. Honestly.

And tell me, Steff, why is G-Money so immature?Well, at least, what's he done now?

You know, I find it interesting that in our flat, the oldest flatmate is the most immature, and the youngest is (debatably) the most mature. Although I could probably give G-Money a run for his money. It's just that I prefer to act my shoe size in other places, such as this blog. I mean, even the title is from a particularly lame joke that makes me giggle every time I think of it. Mary, too, I'll wager. Cos Mary's cool.

How would one express a "blog-fish", I wonder? Would holding the computer under the chin suffice?

What exactly does "wax" mean? I mean, I know it's the stuff that you make stuff out of, and it comes out of your ears, and it's what happens to the moon as it gets fuller, but what about when one waxes lyrical/philosphical/rhetorical? Why wax? Or have I just got my syntactical wires crossed once more?

Can't find a better maaahahahahahnn.

You said it, Eddie. Or, should I say, LUCY!

Yes, I know it's you. You can't hide forever. I'm not sure what you're doing impersonating a credible musician though. JC will never fall for that.

Ah, so many levels...

I obviously buy my clothes on the basis that they must look like a bruise eating various citris fruits.

You know, I don't think this colour-coordinating thing is particularly healthy for me. Far too much of the inane, and a little overshare.

I apologise.

I also organise according to quality. Now my nice black underpants are hidden under my giant blue bloomers.

The real problem is that my underwear isn't colourful enough.

You see, the problem is that I categorise by function, not colour. For instance, I have 1 pair of fawn stockings and 1 pair of fawn knee-highs, but the same goes for black. And then I also have a pair of black fishnets.

So, with what colour would one categorise socks that are multi-coloured?

I don't wear stockings anymore.

I'm going now. I really am. I'm off to colour-coordinate my smalls. And maybe my shirts, should I so desire.

And then I will eat some biscuits.

Byron: Hi, have you seen any sheep?
Joey: ...................No, I can't say I have.
Byron: I've lost this sheep. It's suspected to be hiding in this neighbourhood. Are you sure you haven't seen it? It's a master of disguise...sometimes it's a French maid, sometimes it's a rug.....
Joey: A rug, you say?
Byron: Yeah.
Joey: Well, it just so happens that we do have a rug.
Byron: Where is it? I'll check it out, if you don't mind.
Joey: Well, actually, it's cornered my friend in a room and is tearing his clothes off.
Byron: That's my sheep all right.


And also this little gem from Mary:

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Harry is a very sexy man. Especially when you compare him with the lusciousness that is Mark Hamill.

From 21 August, 2004:

[Steff rambles on for far too long about her timetable. Anncounces she hates said timetable. Large gap.]

OK, I don't really, but I'm bored and lonely. Everybody's left town except me and my flatmate (who DOESN'T TALK) and I have to entertain myself somehow. Before writing this I was tidying my room.

Funny how a year can do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to you. I've reorganised my top drawers. Maybe it's time to colour-coordinate my clothes. Because nobody else does that. Nobody at all.

It makes me laugh.

I find it vaguely pathetic that I can be so immensely amused by reading about Mary and myself's lives. Especially since I was actually physically there for 80% of it.

I just re-discovered who George is. It amuses me.

I really shouldn't ignore him and hide away in my room. It's just that this is so much easier. I may even be inspired to study at some point.

Ha. It's just like a Tui billboard.

It happens to me sometimes. Good old Easter.

I wish I'd had an English Public School education, followed by a stint at Oxford or Cambridge or wherever respectable ladies from the Upper Classes attend. Then not only would I have an excellent vocabulary, but an excellent accent with which to express it.

I'm pretty sure that's what C.S. was getting at.



*Steff finally acknowledges posts from August*



So, I should be studying for bio. However, I appear to be sitting at my computer, doing nothing of particular constructiveness. G-Money is currently going for the world record of 21-year-olds Who Act Like As Though They're 5 For The Longest Period Of Time Possible, although he did report Fuck You Dudley's naughty car-parking to the authorities, which was amusing.

Cos I'm freeeeeeeeee,
Free-fallin....

The Rock is liking their Tom Petty today. Is this Tom Petty? I think it is.

Wellington morning traffic sucks. Bloody people driving to work. Take the bus, you pansies.

I feel I am blatantly and uncreatively procrastinating. I should write a haiku or something. Or not.

It amuses me at the end of the wonderful Viscount Vagabond that the guy has been all "Dash it all, confound it, I am not a sentimental chap, I am a drunkard" all the way through, and then as soon as girl says "Oh Max, I love you with all my heart!" he suddenly turns into a tender-hearted WWII soldier and confirms this abrupt announcement by asking "Really, my darling?" or something to that effect. He says "Darling", anyway, which shouldn't amuse me but it does. It just didn't flow. I think you have to read it to know.

I really should read something of intellectual substance. My reading over the past twelve months has consisted of Gone with the Wind, Scarlett, Harry Potter x6, Mansfield Park, a couple of random Mills and Boon, and that lovely book mentioned above. Oh, and something by Mauve Binchey or however you spell her name.

At least I'm reading, I guess. And if you count all the compulsory and non-compusory readings for class and various assignments, that's quite a few words. Plus all the Salients, Dominion Posts and, ahem, Women's Days. I know that sentence is puntuationally incorrect, but italics are a pain in Blogger.

I cannot type. Time to take up that old piano again. That old piano that I have. And am strong enough to take up. With pins and a sewing machine. Should just take it up to Karori to the drycleaner's. It'd be easier, and probably cheaper.

Moving right along...

Mary is going to a wedding! I want to go to a wedding! Weddings are fun. Awwwww.

This was going to be an introspective and retrospective post on the phenomenon that was *NSYNC; however that may have to wait for a new post.

And now to publish this and wait for it to disappear into cyberspace, never to be seen again...