Thursday, April 29
Wasting Time Away...
Right, I wrote this in Media Studies earlier, and it seems like a good update. So that's what it is. Enjoy.
Just for giggles, I'm going to take twenty minutes and just write about what I'm doing right now
I'm in the room I do English and Media Studies in. Only four people are in here, me included. We're supposed to be doing essays, and only one of us is. Not me. Obviously.
I'm here, with my laptop (obviously means work!) listening to the Offsprings Conspiracy of One. Damn good album, I think. Its playing "Vultures", I believe.
To my immediate right is Amyjay, now pretending to work because the teacher has re-entered. Previously, she was reading over my shoulder, since Chyld with a copy of Notepad open always means "updates!"
To my further right is Her. I don't need any more introduction, read yesterday's update you useless git. She's making like Amyjay, only she's never actually seen my blog (probably a good thing, maybe a bad thing...), and neither is she being hit on my any of my guest updaters.
Opposite side of the room is a girl unmentioned before in this stage of the Internet, and probably unmentioned since.
At the front is the teacher, who decided to come in five minutes ago. No one knows or cares what he's doing.
Until ten minutes ago, I was trying to eat an entire sheet of paper. Neither of the women to my right could decide who got it, so I took the simple option. Eat it. And there's nothing wrong with that. I couldn't manage it in one, however, so binwards it went.
On my return, the womenfolk moaned at my trousers being, oh-so-slightly too low. Everyone complains about my trousers, and I'm sure it's a conspiracy. Everyone in the school vs. my trousers. They're American, so naturally they're too big where they should be small (waist) and too small where they should be too big (ankles. I like my tent-like trousers, thank you!)
Halfway through that paragraph, Conspiracy of One stopped. It was playing quietly on headphones for a while, ended up being loud on headphones when the women finally stopped bitching about other women, and went onto loud from speakers when it turned out other people wanted to listen. Now its all supposed to be quiet, I'm whacking "Roots" on quietly. Classic metal album, that.
Now I'm quite free to concentrate on being hung-over. After a form. About 24 hours ago, I was stoned off of my face. It was a good joint, well-packed and long, but quite 'baccy heavy. Nobody knew what was wrong with me. He isn't giggling, he can't be stoned! Nobody mentioned that just as drink affects people in different ways, so cannabis does too. But now, it has passed, and my head is made of cotten wool.
Right, I've got five minutes before lunch time. I'll probably spend it the same as I'm spending it now, glued to the laptop, with some harsh metal sound track on in the headphones. Maybe not, though, as only 21% power remains and I have no charger. That sucks, because humanity sucks. If I speak, I will be ignored, ridiculed, or made to feel small. Maybe all at the same time.
Amyjay seems quite oblivious to the bleeding heart next to her. Having had all three barrels from Her earlier, I don't blame. The fact she's actually working while I'm writing bollocks might also contribute.
Three minutes left, and there's nothing else to write about. I made about five spelling misatakes in that sentence, and just made another three. Right, time to give up while the going's good.
Hmm, seems a good update. Going up tonight instead of a prose on Reading Festival...
Join us again tomorrow, when SuperMarct writes about being drunk.
Last thing: I really need a woman. As if my undersexed rantings yesterday didn't give it away...
Just for giggles, I'm going to take twenty minutes and just write about what I'm doing right now
I'm in the room I do English and Media Studies in. Only four people are in here, me included. We're supposed to be doing essays, and only one of us is. Not me. Obviously.
I'm here, with my laptop (obviously means work!) listening to the Offsprings Conspiracy of One. Damn good album, I think. Its playing "Vultures", I believe.
To my immediate right is Amyjay, now pretending to work because the teacher has re-entered. Previously, she was reading over my shoulder, since Chyld with a copy of Notepad open always means "updates!"
To my further right is Her. I don't need any more introduction, read yesterday's update you useless git. She's making like Amyjay, only she's never actually seen my blog (probably a good thing, maybe a bad thing...), and neither is she being hit on my any of my guest updaters.
Opposite side of the room is a girl unmentioned before in this stage of the Internet, and probably unmentioned since.
At the front is the teacher, who decided to come in five minutes ago. No one knows or cares what he's doing.
Until ten minutes ago, I was trying to eat an entire sheet of paper. Neither of the women to my right could decide who got it, so I took the simple option. Eat it. And there's nothing wrong with that. I couldn't manage it in one, however, so binwards it went.
On my return, the womenfolk moaned at my trousers being, oh-so-slightly too low. Everyone complains about my trousers, and I'm sure it's a conspiracy. Everyone in the school vs. my trousers. They're American, so naturally they're too big where they should be small (waist) and too small where they should be too big (ankles. I like my tent-like trousers, thank you!)
Halfway through that paragraph, Conspiracy of One stopped. It was playing quietly on headphones for a while, ended up being loud on headphones when the women finally stopped bitching about other women, and went onto loud from speakers when it turned out other people wanted to listen. Now its all supposed to be quiet, I'm whacking "Roots" on quietly. Classic metal album, that.
Now I'm quite free to concentrate on being hung-over. After a form. About 24 hours ago, I was stoned off of my face. It was a good joint, well-packed and long, but quite 'baccy heavy. Nobody knew what was wrong with me. He isn't giggling, he can't be stoned! Nobody mentioned that just as drink affects people in different ways, so cannabis does too. But now, it has passed, and my head is made of cotten wool.
Right, I've got five minutes before lunch time. I'll probably spend it the same as I'm spending it now, glued to the laptop, with some harsh metal sound track on in the headphones. Maybe not, though, as only 21% power remains and I have no charger. That sucks, because humanity sucks. If I speak, I will be ignored, ridiculed, or made to feel small. Maybe all at the same time.
Amyjay seems quite oblivious to the bleeding heart next to her. Having had all three barrels from Her earlier, I don't blame. The fact she's actually working while I'm writing bollocks might also contribute.
Three minutes left, and there's nothing else to write about. I made about five spelling misatakes in that sentence, and just made another three. Right, time to give up while the going's good.
Hmm, seems a good update. Going up tonight instead of a prose on Reading Festival...
Join us again tomorrow, when SuperMarct writes about being drunk.
Last thing: I really need a woman. As if my undersexed rantings yesterday didn't give it away...
