Am I weird because I watch the new 0800 REVERSE advert and immediately think "dildo"?

When it shows those two women and reads "They'll be using it later", or the close up of the woman on the phone and she's got a massive grin, and reads: "She's using it right now". I bloody bet she is, a euphoric smile like that!

No-one seemed to understand why I was laughing though, which leads me to believe I'm wired wrong.

If I could find the advert online I'd link it, but alas, you'll just have to believe I'm not totally twisted.

Current Mood: weird

Twilight arrived on DVD today!!!

It's not like I haven't seen it a gazillion times anyway but... squeeeeeeeeeeeee!

 - Bummer that I have to go work first though -

Current Mood: giddy

So I found out today that one of my best friends has been diagnosed with a condition called Hypoplastic Myelodysplasia, which is difficult to spell and probably even more difficult to say.

From what I can gather, it develops when chromosome 7 mutates and causes an abnormaility to the bone marrow in some way. I'm no biologist but it sounds pretty nasty.

He told me that chemotherapy was an extremely likely route for treatment, but that a transplant was the way to actually cure it. Very brief research on the internet has told me that 20-40% of people who suffer from HM develop leukemia. Actual mortality rates depend on the transplant itself, whether the body takes to the new marrow or whether it rejects it.

He was actually very upbeat when he told me about it, which gave me no choice but to follow in his positivity. It makes me think that he must be braver than I am, but I won't let him know that. If he's to spend over a month in hospital, and closer to six to make a recovery, then he'll need us all to stay high-spirited to help him through.

I don't really know why I'm writing this here, but I suspect it's because it's all I can do right now. Hopefully, there'll arrive a moment when I can be more useful.

Current Mood: blah

This is serving only as a short rant. Therapy, if you will.

I managed to finish my team for the upcoming Pokemon tournament which is good, because it gives me two weeks to actually concentrate on my uni work. However, this afternoon I decided to test the team out.

But ALL the trainers on Wifi use frickin' legendaries, which is ok to begin with but soon becomes tiresome. There's only so many Kyogres and Mewtwos I can play against before I feel my brain forming a coup de resistance inside my head.

So I give one of the colosseums on PBR a shot - Rank 5 so nothing too extreme - and I'm met with a Rhydon of statistically impossible proportions. Two OHKO Horn Drills right from the start, followed by a crit-hit Stone Edge and then a defense lowering Crunch, before delivering the final blow. To back up my feeling of distinct persecution (and maybe a tad of bad sportsmanship, but I'd like to think that was understood considering) I figured out the possibility of that series of moves occuring as such is actually 0.18%, or a 1 in 556 chance.

I can see how incredibly pedantic this all is, but hopefully I'll look back at it one day and laugh. Unless I've been struck by lightning.

Current Mood: pissed off

I've been a bit weirded out the last couple of nights by my unswerving devotion to dreaming about right-wing politics, especially considering I've never voted Conservative in my life (despite the fact I live in an area pretty much dominated by Tory supporters).

It actually started on Sunday night when I dreamt I was handing out Quality Street at a Hillary Clinton rally. I don't even particularly like the woman, which might explain why I was trying to tell her it was a waste of time because the people who turned up to the rally were already guaranteed voters anyway, and we should be focusing on those still sat on the fence. But the silly cow was having none of it.

Then last night, I dreamt that Conservative leader David Cameron was the headteacher at my old high school. He hugged me for my A grade in English Literature and then asked that I try harder in Biology. Not a clue what that meant, but it was kinda nice to be back in school again, even with him as a headteacher.

I don't know how this all started and I don't know where it will end. But it is quite disconcerting.

In other news, I just watched the last couple of episodes of The OC (again) with Morgan and I'm sad. Goddamn Schwartz for sending the series to the chair by killing off Marissa. I will curse him forever. It does make me want to write more fanfic though, so I guess I'll get onto that in the next couple of weeks before I have to focus on my final year project.

Anyway, I'm being dragged to see I Am Legend tonight with Will 'Sellout' Smith by some friends so I'd better go do my hair or something. That way if it's crap at least I can check people out in the cinema - silver lining and all that.

...  you're trawling the internet for something, anything, to do.

Temporary relief has been found in an introspective quiz, cheerfully 'borrowed' from

punkpoet

Current Mood: pensive

Gah I hate Sundays. Every week I think "Oh, I'll get [insert job] done on Sunday, I've got a free day!", but when the sabbath (or is the sabbath Saturday now, I never know?) actually arrives I just end up kicking back and doing F.A.

Uni work is a real pain in the ass, basically because I've left it all until the last minute. 6000 words of articles for Specialist Journalism and 200 original pix for Photojournalism to get done in 3 weeks. Which would be easy if I just wanted to write crap, but if I want a decent grade it's gonna have to be on a bunch of interesting subjects. In Stoke? The most interesting thing about Stoke is the famous accolade of being the worst dressed city in the country. Myself excluded, obviously xD

To make matters worse, I stupidly went into town yesterday and bought myself a beautiful new copy of Super Mario Galaxy, so even if I wanted to get some work done I'd been drawn to my Wii in some inexplicable way. Goddamnit. The game itself is awesome though. Similar in gameplay to Mario 64, but rather than massive worlds, you travel through massive galaxies with inter-connected planets. I guess in that way the gameplay is more linear because there's not much scope for exploring off the beaten track, but then I am only a mere 21/120 stars through the game. The graphics are awe-inspiring too - finally a game that really makes full use of the Wii's capabilities.

And when I'm not performing basic survival functions or playing Galaxy, I'm breeding/training a Rotom to complete my challenge team for wifipokeleague, which re-opens for business on Tuesday. I'm looking forward to getting back into battling again after a month or so wait (not to mention how stagnant the league was before dual-typing came into play), but I just know it's going to distract me from doing more work. Maybe I have ADHD or something.

Before I disappear to something equally unproductive, let me share the best thing I've read this week at this link. Who needs porn?!

Jeez, this makes me sound like total video games dweeb.

That's right, finally the cut on my forehead is healed and I no longer look like a violent drunk. This is surely the silver lining of my weekend.

Now I just have to endure the final inevitable quips about cutting my head open during sex. On my own belt no less. If I knew shame, I'd practice hanging my head in it for tomorrow's sake.

Current Mood: embarrassed

For the first time in 59683859 years, give or take, I checked LJ for some well needed updates. What I found was that everything's chugging along perfectly since I was last here, reminding me of why I do keep coming back.

What I DIDN'T expect was, in the middle of reminding myself that I have to vote in the Citrus Awards during the next few days, I found an old chestnut-fic I wrote a while back is actually up for a couple of awards!

To be even considered for nomination against some of the best writers I have ever had the pleasure of reading is gratifying yet utterly humbling. On these grounds I really just wanted to say a huge thank you to whoever it was that was crazy enough to put my name forward. It is a genuine shock of the nicest variety.

On the topic of shocks... Harry Potter! Due to an unfortunate array of shofts at work I'm only up to the eleventh chapter, but jeeeez is it heating up! I won't refer to specifics in case anyone is somehow further behind than myself, because there's nothing worse than having it ruined for you. But still. Incredible.

Right, time to stop jabbering and make myself useful. Voting time for the Citrus Awards. Good luck to everyone in each of the categories and here's hoping there's still enough people writing to keep the Awards running next year too!

If you've not voted yet, do so here: http://www.geocities.com/citrusawards/vote.htm

Current Mood: ecstatic

It’s come to my attention this evening that Gillian McKeith is a pompous, arrogant, self-righteous cowbag who honestly has no idea what it’s like to be none of the above eg. A regular, happy and emotionally stable human being.

Watching ‘You Are What You Eat’ this evening has spawned a hatred deep inside me that has been hibernating since Paul Burrell was finally chucked out of ‘I’m A Celebrity’.

The woman has lost all concept of human form, becoming a haggard health-Nazi she-wolf. She tells a young girl that if she wants to live she will have to give up cake forever. Who the hell lives like that? Ok, if you’re overweight then cut back a little, maybe do a spot of exercise. But to give up any sense of enjoyment so that you can strut around like a wrinkled string bean in a garish tracksuit? I pity the woman.

She further affirmed my belief that she has no sense of fun, or indeed anything other than a misspent childhood when she covered her face in despair that a sixteen year old girl once had a white wine spritzer at a party. Call out social services! Give her an ASBO! This girl cannot tell the difference between right and wrong!

She went on to say that this girl’s mother was totally ‘unfit to be a Mum’. Heaven forbid that looking after a child was about anything other than submerging it in a maelstrom of healthy foodstuffs – say emotional support and teaching key skills?

As if this idiotic extremist had not lowered herself enough, she later revealed the ‘perfect poo’ artwork she had framed in her bathroom to remind herself what a healthy bowel movement is supposed to look like. The woman needs medication. And I don’t mean any herbal crap.

And to think I could’ve spent the night at a Wheatus gig instead.

It's been a terrible day at work. But it's made me think, and I've realised something important, which is always good. So really it's been a terrible day with one good point.

Current Mood: disappointed

Ok, I just wanted to post a snippet of the Seth/Ryan fanfic im working on. I'm nowhere near finished but I'm pretty proud of it as it's my first attempt at a fic. I can't post it anywhere formal, so I guess it'll just have to be here: 


                                                                                           *****


“Look buddy, we’ve been through some good times, some bad times, and some very, very ugly times. But I feel we can relate to each other better because of it,” Seth confessed. “I know you might have felt out in cold before now because my relationship with Summer took precedence, but it’s just me and you from here on in, ok?”

He waited for a response, but nothing came.

“You can agree with me now,” he tried again. Stagnant silence.

With a grunt, Seth rolled over on his bed to face the wall, his back turned on the toy horse that was stood on his bedside table. “Fine. But you’ll come cantering back to me when you run out of hay.” First Summer and now Captain Oats. It seemed no one wanted anything to do with Seth anymore.

Except Ryan.

Ryan had offered to be there if Seth wanted to talk. The only problem being it was Ryan that Seth wanted to talk about. He couldn’t imagine that conversation going down too well: “You know you said we could talk, Ry? Well I was hoping to discuss the weird feelings that I’ve been having towards you. Feelings that I didn’t think I had over guys. What do you think I should do?”

Seth laughed to himself, before realizing it just wasn’t funny: he could see Ryan freaking out and punching him. Seth would sooner lie here talking to his bedroom wall than approach him with the subject.

And the thing with Summer? Seth was surprised at how little remorse he felt towards their break-up. This time two years ago, she was the apple of his eye, the honey to his mustard, the Batman to his Robin . . .

“Ok Seth,” he said to himself, shutting his eyes tightly in dismay. “Stop with the trashy analogies.”

Opening his eyes again, only to see a close-up of his bedroom wall, he tried to put a metaphorical finger on when he started losing interest in Summer.

He’d stood on the kissing booth table in front of a hundred students to declare his love for her: not then. He’d fought Zach tooth and nail on the night of the comic book launch to win her back: not then either. It was more recent than that.

When he felt his heart ache at Ryan’s devastation over loss of his brother. When Summer continually point-blank refused to reprimand Marissa’s attitude with Ryan following Trey’s death. When he realized that however long-term he and Summer seemed, he knew that Ryan was the only one he could not get by without.

Seth had prioritized his friendship with Ryan last year when he sailed to Portland; now it seemed like history was repeating itself. But he knew it was the right thing to do. Since Ryan had walked into Seth’s life two years ago, he had become the most important part of it.

Which was why Seth had been so mad at Ryan’s reaction over dinner. After leaving the table, he was going to take a walk along the pier to clear his head. He never planned Ryan would chase him down to apologize. It was very . . . sensitive of him.

Not that sensitivity inferred anything about Ryan. Unfortunately for Seth, he knew where Ryan placed on the straight-o-meter: a big, fat, manly 10. Or a deep blue if you preferred visual representation.

Seth found himself meandering somewhere around lilac. He had begun to question his feelings for Ryan about this time last year. It was the envy he felt when Marissa used to take Ryan out in her car, or the jealousy that consumed him when he walked in on them kissing.

Despite his better judgment, he had denied to himself that Ryan was anything more than a friend, but now the daydreaming and his dwindling feelings towards Summer . . . denial had never been Seth’s strong point; he knew what was going on.

Seth was falling for a guy. And not just any guy, his best friend.

Why is nothing straightforward in my life anymore? Damn, things aren’t even straight in my life anymore.

Current Mood: bouncy

I'm writing this, having just got up, as some kind of diary entry to remind myself of two pretty horrible dreams I've just had. I say 'just' because I woke briefly at 7 o clock, dreamless, so they must have occurred in the last hour.

Dream 1: I was walking around my home village (a small, quaint little place) with my best friend. Weirdly, we had a baby in a buggy and were both pushing it along. Don't get me wrong, I don't have those kinds of feelings towards my best friend but it seemed that somehow, we had a kid together.

I remember us walking back from the shops or the playgroup or something and all these people kept walking past with dogs. The dogs had this massive interest in us and our baby. They weren't violent or anything, but they wouldn't pass by us without jumping up, barking and playing around. They continued to follow us until their 'owners' took them by the leash and dragged them away.

Anyway, when we were nearly home (not either of our usual homes, but some random house along the main road), my best friend told me she had forgotten something she needed to go fetch and that I should go home and make something to eat. She went back the way we came and I walked along the driveway to the front door.

When I tried to open it, the whole thing flew open and knocked me into the air. The next part is a bit of a haze, but I remember hearing someone whispering a poem to do with pregnancy and I realise I've been knocked a hell of a way across the road, barely onto the pavement on the other side of the road. A car pulls up next to my house, and a different friend gets out looking really worried. He asks me what the hell is going on, and tells me I look massivly cut up. I explain to him, and he somehow tells me that a trap was left by one of my other friends' younger brothers, but it was meant for my best friend (mother of my child) and not myself.

Whilst I'm trying to piece together exactly why he would do that, my friend looks horrified because there is a car swerving along on the side of the road I am lay at. I try to get up but I'm so dizzy and disorientated from the fall I can't get to my feet and WHAM. I wake up.



Dream 2: This one properly scared me. I woke up sweating . . .

I was laying back in my bed in my real home (the one in this village), possibly a continuation from my last dream if you are to assume that I didn't die when the car hit me. Two of my friends are sat with me on the bed, I don't know which of my friends they were but I was concious that they were friends.

There is a knock on my bedroom door, and an salesman comes in. He is bald and pointy-faced, quite sinister looking. He is an albino, wearing a black shirt and white tie. He has shifty eyes and a sharp nose, and he is wearing an unnerving grin. He carries a plastic container with some kind of powder in it.

Inviting himself to sit on my bed also, he starts telling us about this powder. It is unnamed, but allegedly known throughout the medical world. When handled with care it is perfectly normal, but when left exposed to oxygen for a matter of minutes, it secretes a deadly poison into the air. I really want this guy to leave, but no-one knows what to say to him.

He opens the container and takes a little powder out. It looks like mustard powder, but after a few moments an acrid smell starts to fill my nostrils as I realise that this must be the poison he's talking about. Now terrified of this character, I excuse myself to the bathroom, determined to get away from him.

As I open the door and leave my room, I notice the smell is worse out here. In the bathroom there is this powder everywhere, secreting the poison continually. All over the house this albino has left the powder to kill us. I make for the front door, but it is locked and the keys are missing. I can feel myself start to choke on the lack of oxygen as the poision flows through my body. The back door is locked too. I can't find anything to smash the windows. I hear the albino man shout from upstairs and tell me to get back there.

I run to the patio doors as I hear him coming down the stairs. Luckily, he must have forgotten about these doors because the keys are there. I struggle to find the right one as I cough something up from the continual exposure to the poision. As I fit the right key in the lock, the albino comes through the door on the other side of the room and screams. The door flings open just as he jumps across the room to grab me . . . and I wake up, sweating.



I had to get these notes down or I know I would forget these dreams forever. Maybe I'd be better off forgetting these dreams actually, but they just seem so . . . odd. I'm sure a pyschologist would have a field day over them, and maybe that's why I don't want to forget about them, because I want to understand what they mean.

Whatever my reasoning, I'm now gonna be late for my lecture so I have to get a shower and dash. I'm still a little sweaty and somewhat unnerved by everything. It's crazy what our minds can do to us.

Current Mood: scared

Omg I completely forgot how much I hated Oliver in Season 1 of The OC!

After forgetting to bring any form of entertainment home with me this weekend, I sunk back into watching my OC Box Sets for hours at a time, and I can't believe how much I'd forgotten.

Episode 15 "The Third Wheel" is possibly one of the most feel-good episodes ever aired . . . until it ends with Oliver outside the pool house like Jason from Friday 13th.

So Marissa is the same ignorant bitch as in every other episode, but the rest of the characters are blessed with an excellent script. I've always had a thing for Seth/Anna, eeeeeeeven though we know Summer is the one for him. Anna just taught Seth so much- "Confidence, Cohen". She makes me smile! And she's looking super-attractive in this episode with her rock-chick pink leather and moussed hair, yay for Anna!

It's like the first time we see Luke without a scowl on his face and coming out with some stereotypical jock line. The songs he jumps into the moment he gets a guitar in his hands are hilarious, and they get back from the Rooney gig he's totally hyper. And then Oliver ruins it all. *scowl*

Ryan of course, is the misunderstood hero. We all know Oliver is a crafty badass who would do best playing on the freeway, but no-one else can see it! They're all too "Wow Rooney" "You've boarded the Alps?!" "I love Paris and baguettes" blah blah blah. Listen to the kid! If it weren't for him, Marissa would still probably be passed out on her driveway after another binge session. Skank.

Then there's the Sandy and the Kirsten, ever plagued by Male-y Hailey, the girl with the broadest shoulders you've ever seen. I did notice when they're playing Connect 4 however, that Kirsten blatantly misses the easiest win she's ever been faced with. Not that it matters, as Hailey knocks over the game in a kiddy tantrum not long after anyway.

And Oliver, have I mentioned how much I hate him? Well I do. There is no death painful enough for this psycho! And by the way, whichever evil piece of work plays him does a really bad job of showing a cocaine addiction- it's not all rubbing your nose and scratching your head. Not that I know from experience, I might add.

In short, I miss Season 1 a hell of a lot. Season 3 just isn't doing it for me, although I may get a second wind now Johnny is finally dead. Good move Josh.

On other notes, I've spent most of the day looking round the shops for a box of organic green tea for mother dearest. Shouldn't it be the other way round (as in mother shopping for me, not green tea shopping for me)?

I've not stopped to look at the crap I'm writing here so this is my ranting in it's purest form. I'll apologise for it now.

Note to self: Advertise for a beta for the fic I'm writing . . . soon. I wonder if anyone can be bothered beta-ing for a newb? Which I definitely am. I can barely work a keyboard for god's sake.

Current Mood: crazy

My brain hurts and my eyes ache. But I'm feeling pretty good for it.

I have so much admiration for professional writers. Creative writers. I mean, in all honesty, working in Journalism is mostly fabrication and stretching the truth, but at least you are working on some semblance of fact. Creative writers rely on their imagination, literary skills, and patience. It's much harder than it sounds.

I stagger to this realisation after spending most of the day getting back into the fic I've been trying to write for ages. It shouldn't be hard work to write, I know, but it's just making sure that I'm happy with the finished product. Not that it's even close to that stage yet.

Some of the fanfics I've seen are utterly amazing. The plots are intriguing, the writing is outstanding, and the characterisation is totally on form. Which is the standard I'm trying to get to, but god damn does it take patience. I think I set myself up for failure by starting off with a project so big- this is my first fic. In a perfect world, it will be about 70,000 words . . . I'm somewhere around the 9,000 mark as it stands. I know I should probably work on something smaller to start with but I'm so enthusiastic with how I can see this fic working out, I can't focus on writing something smaller. ARGH.

Despite all this moaning, there is still some sense of achievement for what I've managed. Until I can sort out getting a beta to check up on my mistakes, I've been doing it myself which takes more time than I imagined. Tomorrow I'll get up and crack on with some more. Maybe even by the end of the month, I'll be ready to post some of it . . .

In short this is just a mild rant intertwined with a shout out to all those talented writers that just keep impressing with their work. It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling to read something so real.

Praise the world of Fanfic!

Current Mood: satisfied

I woke up this morning in a really bright mood, yet somewhat unsure. I actually had a dream about The OC last night, a sure sign of over-exposure. I'm a total geek, right?

As memories of my dreams always fade away during the day, it's mostly quite foggy. But I recall chatting to Kirsten and Sandy on a golf course whilst Seth and Summer argued a short distance away. I think maybe I should get a new hobby before I start to question my sanity.

But fear not! The usual grind of the day took my mind off the pleasantries of my dream, as my enthusiasm was gradually whittled down to nothing. The constant rain did little to brighten the mood, and it was only the fact I ALWAYS carry an umbrella with me that stopped me throwing myself into the lake and sinking like an anchor.

I know everyone hates Mondays, but now Tuesdays and Wednesdays are just as bad. That's the first half of the freakin' week!

Now I must venture into town to get a load of birthday presents that I should have sorted out last week. Pay by plastic I guess, that's what an overdraft's for right?

Current Mood: gloomy

Ok, so as I signed up to LJ a couple of months ago to get involved in the fanfic scene, I figured I should probably make something of this blog business too. Especially as I've been too busy to continue writing the fic that I started last summer!

I'm quite aware that no-one reads newbie blogs anyway. But should anyone stumble across this, I didn't want to seem like as a leech on the face of LJ, with nothing of my own to contribute. So until I can get somewhere in the fic I mentioned, I guess I'm just gonna update this once in a while. When I'm bored. Very bored.

Right now I'm totally smitten with theoc_slash, some of the writing is just awesome. Maybe one day I'll finally get something in there . . . *dreams*

But for now, I'm gonna get a glass of water and finish reading The Da Vinci Code. I hope the movie does it justice. Ah well.

Sayonara.

Current Mood: bored