1. Smudgy fingerprinty touch screens are not made for people with obsessive compulsive tendencies. I spend more time trying to clean the screen than actually using the phone and have, on more than one occasion, used my knuckle instead of my fingertip to avoid smudges.
2. People who get out of bed at 4am do not benefit from being able to access the current temperature. You would think I’d learn from my mistakes, but I am a curious bastard.
3. Words with Friends should come with a warning about its addictiveness.
4. Words with Friends should come with a warning about its ability to make you want to want to stab a stranger in the face.
5. Words with Friends makes my phone do a vibratey alerty thingy when it’s my turn, and yes, I will wake up and deal with it in the middle of the night.
6. Getting a HTC instead of an iPhone makes nerds think I’m the shizz.
7. Auto correct makes your friends think you're rather odd, and is truly the devil.
8. It’s scary that Google knows where I am at all times. I was already paranoid, I don’t need this.
9. Having access to a decent camera means I will photograph all kinds of pointless crap then put it on Facebook and make my friends look at it.
10. I can’t delete the racist jokes my slightly racist friend sends me on occasion.
11. I can Google things to prove to people that no matter what we’re arguing about, I’m always right. Always.
12. I found out yesterday there are books on there. Actual books. And I’ve even heard of most of them.
13. I don’t care what anyone says, the game Teeter is impossible past level 29.
14. Despite having an addictive personality and zero willpower, I somehow managed to avoid downloading Angry Birds. For now.
15. People make fun of me less now (about my phone, anyway).
16. Seriously. The fingerprints. I’m not coping.
17. I still don’t really know how to use a smart phone.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Now you’re just somebody that I used to know
If you haven’t read last week’s blog, go do that now, because this here be a sequel!
After last week’s blog, a certain someone decided to break his vow of silence towards me and said he’d be happy to talk if I wanted to. There was a lot of stuff I was confused about, and I needed some kind of reassurance that he was a good guy who just made some mistakes, something along the lines of ‘Sorry I lied to you and treated you like you were something I stepped in. I handled the whole thing really badly, and you didn’t deserve that.’ Sadly, this was not the result I got. Sorry? No, just selfish and capable of mass dickheadery (you’ve been using that word this week, haven’t you? Of course you have!). It turned out that ‘I’m happy to talk to you’ meant ‘I’m happy to talk to you on Facebook chat as long as you agree with everything I say and as soon as you start asking questions that I don’t have a pre-prepared bullshit answer to, I’m going to tell you I have to leave and delete you from Facebook. Because I’m classy like that.’
So those questions I said I was never going to get an answer to will forever remain unanswered. But the good news is I can listen to Adele again. I realised that Someone Like You doesn’t relate to my situation at all, not unless you replace the line ‘I wish nothing but the best for you’ with ‘I hope you get VD.’ Good luck to him. As if he’s ever going to find another girl with my wicked drawing talents. 
My manager, who gave me the lovely piece of advice about having pizzas delivered to his house, informed me that if you order from the Dominos website they will let you pay cash upon delivery. I think the ultimate revenge there would be the fact that Dominos pizza tastes like balls. Here’s how our Monday morning shift panned out: 
I can get pretty revenge-y, but never the ‘I can’t find a pulse’ kind of revenge-y. Also, I’m gonna be sOOper nice to that chick from now on.
This afternoon I was stuck at the traffic lights belting out the words to Alanis Morissette’s You Oughta Know, from her greatest hits CD that I felt the need to purchase on Sunday and take everywhere with me ever since, when I decided that she was truly one of the great poets of our generation. Then I decided my brain had officially given up on me and I needed to seek help immediately. I found this help at the bottom of a bag of potato chips.
What have we learned? Some people suck. Some people can’t admit when they’ve done something wrong. Some people don’t care if they hurt someone else as long as it means they get what they want. But we’ve also learned that some people are none of those things. Good friends, good chips, and Alanis Morisstte compilation CDs can lift anyone’s mood. And I have a lollipop in my mouth right now, so life is good. Gosh darn it.
After last week’s blog, a certain someone decided to break his vow of silence towards me and said he’d be happy to talk if I wanted to. There was a lot of stuff I was confused about, and I needed some kind of reassurance that he was a good guy who just made some mistakes, something along the lines of ‘Sorry I lied to you and treated you like you were something I stepped in. I handled the whole thing really badly, and you didn’t deserve that.’ Sadly, this was not the result I got. Sorry? No, just selfish and capable of mass dickheadery (you’ve been using that word this week, haven’t you? Of course you have!). It turned out that ‘I’m happy to talk to you’ meant ‘I’m happy to talk to you on Facebook chat as long as you agree with everything I say and as soon as you start asking questions that I don’t have a pre-prepared bullshit answer to, I’m going to tell you I have to leave and delete you from Facebook. Because I’m classy like that.’
So those questions I said I was never going to get an answer to will forever remain unanswered. But the good news is I can listen to Adele again. I realised that Someone Like You doesn’t relate to my situation at all, not unless you replace the line ‘I wish nothing but the best for you’ with ‘I hope you get VD.’ Good luck to him. As if he’s ever going to find another girl with my wicked drawing talents. My manager, who gave me the lovely piece of advice about having pizzas delivered to his house, informed me that if you order from the Dominos website they will let you pay cash upon delivery. I think the ultimate revenge there would be the fact that Dominos pizza tastes like balls. Here’s how our Monday morning shift panned out: I can get pretty revenge-y, but never the ‘I can’t find a pulse’ kind of revenge-y. Also, I’m gonna be sOOper nice to that chick from now on.
This afternoon I was stuck at the traffic lights belting out the words to Alanis Morissette’s You Oughta Know, from her greatest hits CD that I felt the need to purchase on Sunday and take everywhere with me ever since, when I decided that she was truly one of the great poets of our generation. Then I decided my brain had officially given up on me and I needed to seek help immediately. I found this help at the bottom of a bag of potato chips.
What have we learned? Some people suck. Some people can’t admit when they’ve done something wrong. Some people don’t care if they hurt someone else as long as it means they get what they want. But we’ve also learned that some people are none of those things. Good friends, good chips, and Alanis Morisstte compilation CDs can lift anyone’s mood. And I have a lollipop in my mouth right now, so life is good. Gosh darn it.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Modern Romance
(100 points to anyone who got the Yeah Yeah Yeahs reference. You can have those points. They're yours to do with what you wish. High five!)
Apologies for the lack of blog last week. I was planning to do it Friday afternoon, but on Thursday night, much to my surprise, I got my heart smashed into a million pieces by the only guy I’ve ever really loved. Needless to say I was struggling a tad on Friday. To add insult to injury, he chose to do this on a night when I had to get up for work at 4:00 the next morning. Via Skype. Because some people are classy like that.
Apologies for the lack of blog last week. I was planning to do it Friday afternoon, but on Thursday night, much to my surprise, I got my heart smashed into a million pieces by the only guy I’ve ever really loved. Needless to say I was struggling a tad on Friday. To add insult to injury, he chose to do this on a night when I had to get up for work at 4:00 the next morning. Via Skype. Because some people are classy like that.
Here’s how my sleepless night panned out:
10:00pm
10:00pm
1:00am
4:00am (aka ‘time to get up, fool’)
I got to work just before 6:00 with glazed and bloodshot eyes, looking like somewhat of a stoner, and told my manager what had happened, so she wouldn’t think I was a stoner. It was at this point I started to tear up again and had to go hide in the toilets for a while. When I came back I said that I’d be fine as long as we didn’t talk about it or play anything by Adele. She offered up this mature piece of advice:
Her: ‘Get a bunch of pizzas delivered to his house.’
Me: ‘But he’s in Sydney.’
Her: ‘So call a pizza shop in Sydney.’
So much wisdom.
My customer service skills were somewhat below average that morning. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not amazing at the best of times, but I can usually keep my fake smile on. Last Friday, I had absolutely no tolerance whatsoever for what I like to call ‘dickheadery’ (meaning: the act of being a dickhead).
Yeah. Inanimate objects can be dickheads too.
So that sucked balls. And it still sucks balls. I’ve got questions that I know I’ll never get an answer to, but on Tuesday, I woke up and I didn’t feel sick anymore. The whole experience has just reminded me that I’ve got an amazing family, wonderful friends, and a great ass. And isn’t that all a girl really needs in life?
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Ideas for short stories
Being a writing student is hard. Not because writing is hard, obviously I’ve got skills like a champ, but it’s the time management issue that’s holding me down. Coming up with ideas is the easy part. Like, really easy. My imagination is a smorgasbord of brilliance.
Here’s some of the genius that I have yet to pen. And no, you can’t have them. Intellectual property and copyright and whatnot says they’re mine.
IDEAS
Every time the protagonist does a good deed, he is hit by a wave of bad luck. He must decide whether to keep helping others and live with his curse, or turn to a life of selfishness and good luck. The decision is made for him when aliens invade and one of them eats him and he dies. The end.
A woman goes to the supermarket. She gets lost in the aisles and has to start living there. Then a steak that has passed its use by date becomes so rancid that it comes to life and it eats her and she dies. The end.
An old man gets out of bed on his first day of retirement and realises he doesn’t know what to do with all his free time. He wanders the house all day looking for small jobs to do. Then a grizzly bear that was living in his garage eats him and he dies. The end.
A young woman, who looks suspiciously like me, can’t stop buying books online. Her credit card comes to life and warns her against making another purchase, but she ignores it. The light fixture unexpectedly falls from the ceiling, pinning her underneath. Then some coyotes work out how to come to Australia and they hire a locksmith to unlock her front door and they break into her house and they eat her and she dies. The end.
Satan is bored in hell, so he gets a pet monkey. Then he eats it and it dies. The end.
Mr Potato Head is backpacking through Asia, hoping to ‘find’ himself. I find him instead and I eat him and he dies. He tastes like plastic. The end.
A weary traveller is shipwrecked and finds himself washed up on the beach of an island inhabited by a tribe of cannibals. They capture him and bring him to a big bonfire where they make him their god and he lives happily ever after. The end.
Here’s some of the genius that I have yet to pen. And no, you can’t have them. Intellectual property and copyright and whatnot says they’re mine.
IDEAS
Every time the protagonist does a good deed, he is hit by a wave of bad luck. He must decide whether to keep helping others and live with his curse, or turn to a life of selfishness and good luck. The decision is made for him when aliens invade and one of them eats him and he dies. The end.
A woman goes to the supermarket. She gets lost in the aisles and has to start living there. Then a steak that has passed its use by date becomes so rancid that it comes to life and it eats her and she dies. The end.
An old man gets out of bed on his first day of retirement and realises he doesn’t know what to do with all his free time. He wanders the house all day looking for small jobs to do. Then a grizzly bear that was living in his garage eats him and he dies. The end.
A young woman, who looks suspiciously like me, can’t stop buying books online. Her credit card comes to life and warns her against making another purchase, but she ignores it. The light fixture unexpectedly falls from the ceiling, pinning her underneath. Then some coyotes work out how to come to Australia and they hire a locksmith to unlock her front door and they break into her house and they eat her and she dies. The end.
Satan is bored in hell, so he gets a pet monkey. Then he eats it and it dies. The end.
Mr Potato Head is backpacking through Asia, hoping to ‘find’ himself. I find him instead and I eat him and he dies. He tastes like plastic. The end.
A weary traveller is shipwrecked and finds himself washed up on the beach of an island inhabited by a tribe of cannibals. They capture him and bring him to a big bonfire where they make him their god and he lives happily ever after. The end.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Back to school
This week marked my second week back in the classroom after that whole ditching-school-to-run-away-to-the-other-side-of-the-world-for-a-bit incident from earlier in the year. I went back with the best of intentions. This time it was going to be different. This time I was actually going to get my homework done. I was going to be a good little writing student and work on my novel every day.
So far, we have seen no evidence of this.
Wednesday afternoon I got home from work and decided I was going to do some writing. Here’s how the afternoon/evening unfolded:
2:00 – Turn computer on, check email and log in to Facebook.
3:00 – Still on Facebook.
4:00 – Facebook.
5:00 – Decide it’s time for a Youtube break.
6:00 – More Youtube.
7:00 – Stop for dinner, then a quick shower, then back to Facebook.
8:00 – See a picture of Dr Phil without a moustache, need some time to recover.
9:00 – It is now officially past my bed time. Writing will have to wait until tomorrow. Go to bed.
Thursday – Class, then Facebook.
However, I have chosen not accept responsibility for this - as that would involve a level of maturity that I do not yet possess - and tell anyone who asks that I’m a victim of the times. Back in the day, university students had to use their imaginations to procrastinate. Now we have the internet and all the joy and magic that comes with it. Not to mention the short attention span. I was so distracted yesterday afternoon that after using the Nutella, instead of putting the jar back in the cupboard, I attempted to place it in the dishwasher.
It’s ok though, I’m going to get some work done this weekend. But I’m also a little bit over that novel I’m reading, so I should buckle down and get it finished so I can move on to another book. You know, my room’s pretty messy too, I need to have a massive cleanout. Oh yeah, and those DVDs I borrowed from my brother, I should probably watch those so I can return them. What? It’s Monday again? Brilliant.
So far, we have seen no evidence of this.
Wednesday afternoon I got home from work and decided I was going to do some writing. Here’s how the afternoon/evening unfolded:
2:00 – Turn computer on, check email and log in to Facebook.
3:00 – Still on Facebook.
4:00 – Facebook.
5:00 – Decide it’s time for a Youtube break.
6:00 – More Youtube.
7:00 – Stop for dinner, then a quick shower, then back to Facebook.
8:00 – See a picture of Dr Phil without a moustache, need some time to recover.
9:00 – It is now officially past my bed time. Writing will have to wait until tomorrow. Go to bed.
Thursday – Class, then Facebook.
However, I have chosen not accept responsibility for this - as that would involve a level of maturity that I do not yet possess - and tell anyone who asks that I’m a victim of the times. Back in the day, university students had to use their imaginations to procrastinate. Now we have the internet and all the joy and magic that comes with it. Not to mention the short attention span. I was so distracted yesterday afternoon that after using the Nutella, instead of putting the jar back in the cupboard, I attempted to place it in the dishwasher.
It’s ok though, I’m going to get some work done this weekend. But I’m also a little bit over that novel I’m reading, so I should buckle down and get it finished so I can move on to another book. You know, my room’s pretty messy too, I need to have a massive cleanout. Oh yeah, and those DVDs I borrowed from my brother, I should probably watch those so I can return them. What? It’s Monday again? Brilliant.
Friday, July 22, 2011
The eleven people you see at every gig
The tall guy
Defining characteristics: he is tall.
Location: standing right in front of you.
The guy who yells the words to the song louder than the music coming through the speakers
Defining characteristics: wearing the band t-shirt, has his fist in the air, is extremely sweaty. Like, really, really sweaty. Looks like he’s been pushed in a swimming pool kind of sweaty.
Location: right beside your ear.
The girl who won’t stop going ‘WOO!’
Defining characteristics: she won’t shut the eff up.
Location: right beside your other ear.
The tragic old guy who can’t let go of his youth
Defining characteristics: tries to dress hip, keeps talking to the kids about music and wondering why they’re trying to get away from him.
Location: too close to the kids.
The old guy who is genuinely interested in the band
Defining characteristics: has a drink in his hand, nods his head to the music, has a look of defeat on his face over the knowledge that he is constantly being mistaken for the tragic old guy.
Location: standing around at the back.
The boyfriend/girlfriend who has been dragged along unwillingly by their partner
Defining characteristics: an extreme look of boredom. Unless their other half is looking their way, then they’re faking a smile. Poorly.
Location: right beside someone who looks excited.
The security guard who thinks he’s tough
Defining characteristics: built, but only about 5 feet tall and clearly suffering from short man syndrome.
Location: at the front giving the stink eye to anyone who dared to bring a camera.
The guy who smacks you in the head every time he puts his hands up in the air (and waves them like he just doesn’t care)
Defining characteristics: has his arms up. Smells like a dickhead. Because he is.
Location: right behind you.
The girl who only came to see the support band and thinks she’s better than you because she only came to see the support band
Defining characteristics: talks down to you between each band's set.
Location: hopefully outside soon.
The crowd surfer
Defining characteristics: most likely male, shirtless and missing a shoe.
Location: right on top of you. Unless people dropped him. Then he’s probably on the floor.
You
Defining characteristics: love the band, really want to enjoy yourself, but quietly hating all the people around you.
Location: behind the tall guy, right between the guy who sings too loud and the girl who keeps squealing, underneath the crowd surfer, getting smacked in the back of the head.
Defining characteristics: he is tall.
Location: standing right in front of you.
The guy who yells the words to the song louder than the music coming through the speakers
Defining characteristics: wearing the band t-shirt, has his fist in the air, is extremely sweaty. Like, really, really sweaty. Looks like he’s been pushed in a swimming pool kind of sweaty.
Location: right beside your ear.
The girl who won’t stop going ‘WOO!’
Defining characteristics: she won’t shut the eff up.
Location: right beside your other ear.
The tragic old guy who can’t let go of his youth
Defining characteristics: tries to dress hip, keeps talking to the kids about music and wondering why they’re trying to get away from him.
Location: too close to the kids.
The old guy who is genuinely interested in the band
Defining characteristics: has a drink in his hand, nods his head to the music, has a look of defeat on his face over the knowledge that he is constantly being mistaken for the tragic old guy.
Location: standing around at the back.
The boyfriend/girlfriend who has been dragged along unwillingly by their partner
Defining characteristics: an extreme look of boredom. Unless their other half is looking their way, then they’re faking a smile. Poorly.
Location: right beside someone who looks excited.
The security guard who thinks he’s tough
Defining characteristics: built, but only about 5 feet tall and clearly suffering from short man syndrome.
Location: at the front giving the stink eye to anyone who dared to bring a camera.
The guy who smacks you in the head every time he puts his hands up in the air (and waves them like he just doesn’t care)
Defining characteristics: has his arms up. Smells like a dickhead. Because he is.
Location: right behind you.
The girl who only came to see the support band and thinks she’s better than you because she only came to see the support band
Defining characteristics: talks down to you between each band's set.
Location: hopefully outside soon.
The crowd surfer
Defining characteristics: most likely male, shirtless and missing a shoe.
Location: right on top of you. Unless people dropped him. Then he’s probably on the floor.
You
Defining characteristics: love the band, really want to enjoy yourself, but quietly hating all the people around you.
Location: behind the tall guy, right between the guy who sings too loud and the girl who keeps squealing, underneath the crowd surfer, getting smacked in the back of the head.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Lauren’s Book Club: Where Wally is (and what he’s keeping from us)
Books! Woo! Reading! Yeah!
Where’s Wally – Martin Handford
There was one question that plagued, baffled, and in some cases caused major eye strain to children in the early to mid nineties. What was that question, you ask? Well shut up for a second and I’ll tell you. The question was this: Just where, exactly, is Wally?
There he is. Yeah, over there in the stripy jumper. No not that one, over a little more to the left. Yeah, that’s him, the bugger in the glasses with the magic walking stick. I know, right? Apparently he knows a wizard.
That was an ordeal, wasn’t it? It’s a bit harsh how they make so many other people look like him. You would never see that many people wearing red and white striped jumpers in the real world.
Though we are led to believe that Wally’s whereabouts is the main issue here, these books tend to ask more questions than they answer. Why is he always hanging out in big crowds? Who is he hiding from? Why do the Americans call him ‘Waldo’? Does no one else think it’s odd that he has multiple identities? The man travels a lot, does this name issue not make it hard for him to get through passport control? Then there’s the confusing title Where’s Wally in Hollywood. Is the answer not in the question? He’s in Hollywood. Let the kids have a day off.
Why do we never see him working? What is his main source of income? How is he funding these trips? And why do we have to find him? How hard is it to inform a friend or relative of your travel plans? I’m not one to jump to conclusions, but I think it’s a safe to say he’s a drug mule. Has anyone actually checked what’s concealed inside this alleged ‘magic’ walking stick?
I find the whole situation to be quite suspicious.
Why is there never a double page spread of Wally sitting alone in his living room, kicking back in an armchair while reading a good book? Where’s Wally? There he is, enjoying a quiet night in. How about Where's Wally in the IT department? I know you shouldn't judge someone based on their appearance, but lets face it, if he did have a job it would be in IT.
I’ll tell you why we've never seen him taking part in these everyday activities: it’s because of the drugs.
Maybe he is a drug mule. Maybe I’m just jealous that he’s friends with a wizard and I still haven’t met one. Maybe he’s just a drawing that some guy did to sell some books. I guess we’ll never know.
But it’s most likely the drugs.
Where’s Wally – Martin Handford
There was one question that plagued, baffled, and in some cases caused major eye strain to children in the early to mid nineties. What was that question, you ask? Well shut up for a second and I’ll tell you. The question was this: Just where, exactly, is Wally?
There he is. Yeah, over there in the stripy jumper. No not that one, over a little more to the left. Yeah, that’s him, the bugger in the glasses with the magic walking stick. I know, right? Apparently he knows a wizard.
That was an ordeal, wasn’t it? It’s a bit harsh how they make so many other people look like him. You would never see that many people wearing red and white striped jumpers in the real world.
Though we are led to believe that Wally’s whereabouts is the main issue here, these books tend to ask more questions than they answer. Why is he always hanging out in big crowds? Who is he hiding from? Why do the Americans call him ‘Waldo’? Does no one else think it’s odd that he has multiple identities? The man travels a lot, does this name issue not make it hard for him to get through passport control? Then there’s the confusing title Where’s Wally in Hollywood. Is the answer not in the question? He’s in Hollywood. Let the kids have a day off.
Why do we never see him working? What is his main source of income? How is he funding these trips? And why do we have to find him? How hard is it to inform a friend or relative of your travel plans? I’m not one to jump to conclusions, but I think it’s a safe to say he’s a drug mule. Has anyone actually checked what’s concealed inside this alleged ‘magic’ walking stick?
I find the whole situation to be quite suspicious.
Why is there never a double page spread of Wally sitting alone in his living room, kicking back in an armchair while reading a good book? Where’s Wally? There he is, enjoying a quiet night in. How about Where's Wally in the IT department? I know you shouldn't judge someone based on their appearance, but lets face it, if he did have a job it would be in IT.
I’ll tell you why we've never seen him taking part in these everyday activities: it’s because of the drugs.
Maybe he is a drug mule. Maybe I’m just jealous that he’s friends with a wizard and I still haven’t met one. Maybe he’s just a drawing that some guy did to sell some books. I guess we’ll never know.
But it’s most likely the drugs.
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