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chaletianAh, the traditional Monday morning post. It’s a glorious thing. Almost as glorious as the morning itself, which perked me right up the very second I stepped out of the building on my way to work. Clear blue skies, fresh air, a lovely chilly snap: what more can you ask for in an October morning? I walked briskly to the station, The Hush Sound playing very loudly in my ears, albeit not muffling the clunkety-clop of my new boots with their noisy heels, and read various passably intelligent things on my way to work. An excellent start to the day. Of course, now I’m at work in the unwindowed box that is my shared office, and things have taken a more gloomy aspect (am in receipt of cheery email from Alex asking for a dazzling variety of survival curves… thanks for that…) but still, all in all, life is merry and life is sweet, even though I don’t believe in God and must therefore be tragically unhappy with my pointless existence.
Anyway, le weekend. Saturday, Katie and I bopped into Staines (fucking South West Trains. That’s all I have to say…), to meet Kathye and Megan for the thrilling, nay, scintillating, cinematic treat that was to be High School Musical 3. Sadly Kathye couldn’t come, but we were delivered of Megan, and took her off to get lunch, embark upon a sweet-buying mission in Woolworths, and pobble around a few shops before hurling ourselves upon the Staines Vue.
Oh. Em. Gee. Don’t ever let me do that again. Do you have any idea how much high-pitched noise young girls can make? My ears are still ringing. So much enthusiasm. So much screaming. It hurt. Still, it was sort of sweet, and Megan was frankly adorable, bopping away in her little seat. Katie, likewise, quite excited. I mostly laughed, but I did enjoy the ridiculousness, and there was one song that was actually good. I also, I must honestly admit, found myself, in my tiny head, going, ‘So. Zac Efron. Hmm.’ Heh. So, then we dropped Megan off, went home via pizza and chocolate pudding purchasing, and watched SPN and Chuck (oh, Chuck! Chuck who, I cannot lie, PALES INTO INSIGNIFICANCE NEXT TO THE AWESOMENESS OF JENSEN ACKLES).
Sunday began with an indignant phone call to my mother, demanding to know whether she had stopped loving me. I will explain the background to this. My mother has, for some unknown reason, long since decided that my brother and I are CONSTITUTIONALLY INCAPABLE of remembering when the clocks change. Thus we have always received at least one, and usually two or three, reminders at each change. But some horrible mutation has occurred to this scheme. Reader, I shudder to mention this tragic truth, but this time I received not a single, solitary reminder. I know. It pains me merely to type the words. Surely the only conclusion which can be drawn from this sad state of affairs is that the milk of motherly affection has dried up. The grape of maternal devotion has withered upon the vine. All is devastation and dismay. O! O! And so I lament, etc etc. Anyway, turns out she’s decided we’re old enough to cope with the clocks ourselves, which makes a nice change, so there you go. Milk of m.a. and grape of m.d. turn out to be safe and sound. *thumbs up*
So, once that family brouhaha was resolved, we pottered around for quite some time, before making the heroic leap into outdoor!clothes and bopping into town, where Katie tried on boots and we bought comics, before agonising for about SIX WHOLE ENTIRE HOURS about where to have lunch. Eventually lunched, I bought a jumper, we went home. Pottered some more. Had cheesy mash and tuna mayo for dinner (gastronomic fucking genius, me). Watched Hairspray.
And then, after that, I settled into my bed, and succumbed to the compelling world of the US election. I freely admit that I am actually addicted to it. I have basically spent all my free time in the last few days reading political blogs and newspapers and polls and analysis and campaign videos and TV interviews and I think my brain is in danger of exploding. And now that Sarah Palin has gone ‘rogue’, I think it’s just going to get more exciting! Also, I ♥ the Oval Office as a ‘bummer free zone’. Which does actually seem to be the same zone John McCain is living in.
Anyway, le weekend. Saturday, Katie and I bopped into Staines (fucking South West Trains. That’s all I have to say…), to meet Kathye and Megan for the thrilling, nay, scintillating, cinematic treat that was to be High School Musical 3. Sadly Kathye couldn’t come, but we were delivered of Megan, and took her off to get lunch, embark upon a sweet-buying mission in Woolworths, and pobble around a few shops before hurling ourselves upon the Staines Vue.
Oh. Em. Gee. Don’t ever let me do that again. Do you have any idea how much high-pitched noise young girls can make? My ears are still ringing. So much enthusiasm. So much screaming. It hurt. Still, it was sort of sweet, and Megan was frankly adorable, bopping away in her little seat. Katie, likewise, quite excited. I mostly laughed, but I did enjoy the ridiculousness, and there was one song that was actually good. I also, I must honestly admit, found myself, in my tiny head, going, ‘So. Zac Efron. Hmm.’ Heh. So, then we dropped Megan off, went home via pizza and chocolate pudding purchasing, and watched SPN and Chuck (oh, Chuck! Chuck who, I cannot lie, PALES INTO INSIGNIFICANCE NEXT TO THE AWESOMENESS OF JENSEN ACKLES).
Sunday began with an indignant phone call to my mother, demanding to know whether she had stopped loving me. I will explain the background to this. My mother has, for some unknown reason, long since decided that my brother and I are CONSTITUTIONALLY INCAPABLE of remembering when the clocks change. Thus we have always received at least one, and usually two or three, reminders at each change. But some horrible mutation has occurred to this scheme. Reader, I shudder to mention this tragic truth, but this time I received not a single, solitary reminder. I know. It pains me merely to type the words. Surely the only conclusion which can be drawn from this sad state of affairs is that the milk of motherly affection has dried up. The grape of maternal devotion has withered upon the vine. All is devastation and dismay. O! O! And so I lament, etc etc. Anyway, turns out she’s decided we’re old enough to cope with the clocks ourselves, which makes a nice change, so there you go. Milk of m.a. and grape of m.d. turn out to be safe and sound. *thumbs up*
So, once that family brouhaha was resolved, we pottered around for quite some time, before making the heroic leap into outdoor!clothes and bopping into town, where Katie tried on boots and we bought comics, before agonising for about SIX WHOLE ENTIRE HOURS about where to have lunch. Eventually lunched, I bought a jumper, we went home. Pottered some more. Had cheesy mash and tuna mayo for dinner (gastronomic fucking genius, me). Watched Hairspray.
And then, after that, I settled into my bed, and succumbed to the compelling world of the US election. I freely admit that I am actually addicted to it. I have basically spent all my free time in the last few days reading political blogs and newspapers and polls and analysis and campaign videos and TV interviews and I think my brain is in danger of exploding. And now that Sarah Palin has gone ‘rogue’, I think it’s just going to get more exciting! Also, I ♥ the Oval Office as a ‘bummer free zone’. Which does actually seem to be the same zone John McCain is living in.
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Date: 2008-10-27 11:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-27 12:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-27 12:32 pm (UTC)