worst. christmas. cracker. joke. ever.

what is green and always points north?

a magnetic cucumber
…

ps. tomorrow sucks. christmas carols become obsolete.

the most ridiculous time of the year

It’s Christmas! && where am I? Online? Wow, what a loser! Although, actually, that’s what I like about Christmas most, apart from the family meals you just do nothing all day. Except I tend to do that anyway, but now I am not going to feel guilty about it! So far today I slept for about four hours, but this can feasibly blamed on my older brother who has somehow rekindled the youthful Christmas spirit by deciding we ALL had to be awake at 5.43am to open our presents. Tom, at moment however, is extremely moody and it seems best to succumb to his wishes lest we fall victim to his wrath. That makes him sound horrible! He isn’t, we usually get up at 6.30am anyway (God knows WHY) so it wasn’t that bad, but after yesterday’s strenuous lack of sleep I really just needed to crash.
Last night was the most unimaginable Christmas Eve I could have imagined. We went to my step brother’s house for dinner (which his girlfriend had spent DAYS preparing, and it was amazing!) and it got so cold outside that we lit a fire! It was great, it smelt like camping, but really, a fire in December? Still, without it I would have frozen and sitting around outside wouldn’t have been quite as enjoyable. I did manage to borrow Jimbo’s jacket, but generally I will warn against sharing clothing owned by boys, or at least my brothers, because it is usually, despite the weather, accompanied by the aroma of sweat. Gross.
This morning mum said “Your shorts are too big”. Greatest Christmas present ever, especially since the last mid semester break at home. I know she doesn’t do it to be mean, and I completely agree with her, but sometimes it’s hard to take. I think maybe I just don’t like realising the magnitude of the problem. I’m still not the same as I was last year, but I am a heck of a lot closer. Next year I have to be really careful with the dining hall…it wreaks havoc on waistlines.
So, another blog and several unimportant thoughts to ponder.

Ciao.
x

how can i believe in god when last week i got my tongue caught in the roller of an electric typewriter?

No! That never happened, but I did manage to get a papercut on my nose with the help of a maths text book. It always hurts to be assaulted by an old friend, but I suppose that it doesn’t help to have an abnormally sized nose. Maybe. Maybe I don’t. Maybe probably actually I don’t.
Welcome to my pointless blog! I am writing it with a certain ’someone’ in mind, although I’m not entirely sure why they would want to read it. So far this week I have regaled him with the various foodstuffs I consume, and although he hasn’t said, I assume it is boring, and it can’t have helped that one day all I ate was baked beans. Surprisingly, although I AM a student, my choice was in no way influenced by poverty, or even necessity. Mmmm baked beans, though.
I am a pretty boring person, I think. I used to go to school, and I used to love to learn. Apparently I had a HILARIOUS resemblance to the Hermione Potter Puppet Pal who “love[d] to learn” because, well, I did. It didn’t help that I had a best friend called Harry. Now I have plateaued because I don’t know if I can do what I want to do, and right now I’m not doing anything useful. Just quietly, it’s scaring me more than anything ever has in my life, before. I used to be competitive and I used to care about my marks, and it makes me freak out to think that I just don’t anymore! I feel like a shadow of my former self, although, unfortunately, only emotionally. Hopefully I get some good news in January, but until then I just have to sit here with my fingers crossed trying not to think scary thoughts. I generally don’t think I am a very stressed person…except…except now, now I really am.
I have a current thing for John Safran and Father Bob, although this may be partly due to their faint Victorian accent which tends to assuage my desperate wish for a certain OTHER Victorian to be talking to me. Sunday Night Safran is my favourite way to go to sleep. I don’t mean that it is at all boring, I listen to every word! I just love their ridiculous banter distracting me from my thoughts.
I have a new quest! It is to discover the source of my apparent accent. I don’t HAVE an accent, at least compared to my peers. I am from Newcastle, NSW but APPARENTLY my accent doesn’t directly correlate to my location. I have been questioned about my accent by so many people that I am beginning to question it myself (just quietly). I worked in an Irish Pub last summer, and some patrons asked me if I was Irish. I am clearly not Irish, and so I think I should blame the hideous music for distorting their hearing, but it really wasn’t the last time that some people asked me what other country I was from. A group of guys asked me once when I was collecting their empty glasses (they had A LOT) whether I was from Canada or America, or SOMETHING. They also tried to get my phone number, to find out when I finished working, and tried to get me to dance with them because, and I know you couldn’t possibly have guessed this, they were a LITTLE bit inebriated, so maybe in the end their questions about my nationality weren’t so far fetched. I met an American at a party after I moved to Sydney, and he asked me where I had spent my gap year, in Canada or America. I didn’t know what he was talking about, I didn’t even take a gap year, but he said that I’d picked up some kind of accent. I have no idea, but I am pretty certain that I don’t sound Canadian. There were a few more incidents throughout the year, but nothing of particular significance until Trixie, who is actually from Newcastle, said I had a weird accent and my other friends agreed!
I don’t understand this at all! I really don’t have an accent. I think that I tend to confuse people as I don’t sound particularly Australian, and don’t actively practice ‘Strine. At school my roll call teacher constantly maintained that I spoke with a plum in my mouth, so maybe I have a sort of International, well elocuted accent. Who knows? I just want to have enough of an Australian sound to go to America and still be the cute Aussie (“ossy”).
This attempt at a blog has been dismal! I should apologise, but apparently I abuse the privelege.

Ciao.
x