He's got chips in his pocket!!

Well, what has been happening since the last time I blogged? Not alot is the short answer. I had my Catalan exam yesterday, all 3h15 of it, even though I was finished after 2 hours. It wasn't bad, althought apparently Catalan don't like to spell things how they say them. Great (!)

[Minutes pass. Eurovision interupts.]

I'm not watching it on the telly, I'm youtube-ing the songs I liked. Cos I'm that cool. I really love Eurovision. It's so tacky, and we never win, but I have been watching the semi-finals. I like to see who is going to beat us.

What else has happened? Erm... I had my French speaking this morning. Was okay, surprisingly. I rang Orange to set up my account again. After speaking to a lovely man in Bombay, and being interluded by Circus and Human by Britney Spears and The Killers respectively, I managed to set up £15 a month with unlimited texts. I'm content. Bye bye O2! And then I went to look at somewhere to live in my final year. It was amazing. Everything I wanted. But. I just didn't feel it. Maybe It'll grow on me the more I think about it. Maybe.

I also want a travelator like Greece's Eurovision entry has.

Je bored.

Everyone loves a bit of Franglais. "Je bored" is a perfect example of such rich linguistical language. Naturally, the only people to hate Franglais are the French. It is their duty to crusade against all non-Frenchness, and kill it, making sure it can never again return to life. Ever.

I am bored, and procrastinating, so I am blogging. I am currently in a windowless prison, somewhere in a building in which "Science" *shudders* is taught. I fear the men will come for me soon, to cart me away, beat me up a bit, and dump me on DELC's loving doorstep saying "...and don't let us catch you hear again, you dirty linguist!" I signed up for a beginners, and I mean ultra beginners, German course earlier. £52! for 4 whole days! It's alot, but I hope to gain alot from the experience, and add a non-latin language to my repertoire of languages. And perhaps I shall continue it in France, well, in Rennes, and become a linguistic God. But. Freud says I am past the language learning age. So I am a bit screwed. Oh well. I'll prove that nutter wrong.

I'm not looking forward to Catalan tomorrow. I have made my tiny postcards of Catalan. But not enough. I'll do some more tonight, so I feel like I've done something. Then, like most days, I will proceed in taking over the world.

Hah. I was gonna finish blogging then, but it reminded me of Bosnia & Herzegovina's Eurovision entry. It was all a bit Soviet. There was a man singing in Bosnian (perhaps, or maybe Herzegovinian), and there were women in white soviet-esque hats, and playing drums... We expected the doors to seal, the lights go out, followed by the sound of a single shot being fired, shortly followed by cries of "He is dead! The President is dead! Long live the Leader!". Or, failing that, a flag to drapse down, the Bosnia-Herzegovinian flag, with a 40foot high portrait of their leader, with a soviet-style salute given. Alas, it did not. But I'm sure they got through, somehow, despite being shit. But not as shit as Armenia. Oh God, that was bad.

It's just so camp!

Well, last night, for those not in the know, was the first semi-final of Eurovision. Oh, Eurovision. It's got me through many tough times. The first entrant that was on was Montengro (who are still kicking themselves over their split with Serbia after Serbia's win in 2007). It was a woman singing, and a man dancing. You have honestly never seen such hypnotic hips. He served no purpose, and we suspect he was the only gay man in Montenegro. Afterwards we felt a sudden urge to vote for Montenegro. There were some odd ones: FYRM was a bit Macedonian Jonas Brothers; Sweden was a bit pop-opera, or popera if you will; Belarus, and infact most other entrants, were very sexually ambiguous. Alot of men in dresses methinks.

Today I came to revise in the library, for my Catalan exam tomorrow (3h15 long! A new record!), and just felt no motivation at all. I will finish my cards later, but I seriously, just cannot be bothered at all. No és bo. Or bé. Or bona. Or bon. Noone knows. I also did some research for my French speaking on Friday, and found out that to go to Eurockéenes, for a weekend camping ticket it costs €85 or something ridiculously cheap like that. Kicks V Fest and its 'bargain' £145 weekend camping out of the water. Where France lose though is on cinema prices: €9 was the cheapest adult price i saw. €9! Daylight robbery!

Can I go to the toilet please?

[Well, today was a bit non-descript. I went to the library nice and early, and settled in, deep in the heart of the place, near Russian, French and English Lit. There were windows, so it wasn't all bad. Plus, Lauren turned up, so I wasn't busy despairing alone. ] I blogged that the other day, then got bored and gave up.

Today, I had my first exam of the year. Proper exam, not class test. In the great hall, with clocks and everything. I was number 26. 6 years older than myself. 2 hours is a long time. Well, this is what you think before, when you're outside, fighting your way past the rabble of English Lit. students who want their numbers. We won in the end. We all got ours, and they were still coming in late after we were well seated. Then a man suddenly announced "It's twenty to. Start." I expected our instructions to be read out or something. This was not the case. Despite all this kerfuffle, the exam paper wasn't actually too bad. It was nicer than I expected, and I wrote things. Then, about half an hour into it, I was hit by an urge to pee. I figured "it'll pass! and I'll wait til the end". This was not the case. I found myself one of many people who had made the decision to go for a pee, escorted. It felt weird. I thought it would clear my mind, and make me work better. It did not. The urge to pee was replaced by singing in my head. The Spanish eurovision entry I believe.

But all is good. I am now free of the Roland and Zaddy forever. Or at least until resit time.

Also: Happy 100th blogg to me!

Ugh. I shan't be here much longer.

I blogg in fear. Fear that my laptop will not last the length of the blogg. Recently it has decided to only last for 20 minute periods (10 minute if not plugged in), then it dies. It's most irritating. For this reason, and the fact that of late I haven't felt a huge urge to blog, I have not blogged in a few days. Not alot has really happened. I spent all of Wednesday in the library doing my Cross Cultural Essay, and only got 600 or so words done. Then, in the evening I finished it. It is now handed in, so all is good. Also good is my Portfolio Essay. I got 70 :D Ruth got 80. Putting us all to shame. Again. But, I shan't deny her it, she's ruddy good at Spanish.

Today, Katie persuaded me to go to Preston, 'cos she needed a bag. So, as such, needed to go to Primark. There is something about Preston that I just don't like. I can't quite place what, as it's not that bad. It's just a bit grim. Katie got her bag, so all is good.

I also had my last Epic seminar today, with the Zaddster, who Ruth informs me is not of this country. No 'Zaddy's have been born in this country. It seems our inkling's about her being born in somewhere that doesn't exist anymore, like Ceylon or Swaziland, are somewhat well-founded. I feel almost, not quite confident, or optimistic, but somewhat less scared about this exam.

Why IS Piers Morgan?!

Eee when I were a lad.

This is Yorkshire-speak for 'Eeee when I was a lad'. Clearly the simple conjugation of 'to be' has not quite been grasped in my home county. Anyway, I feel some sort of nostalgia towards the 1930s today, since being told that that current recession *yawns* could be worse than that following the Wall Street Crash (or the WSC to those who did Modern World History at GCSE. Acronyms were all we had.) I don't know how bad the 'bust' period hit the UK in the 30s, but it hit America pretty hard. They had to come up with so many acronyms, or Alphabet Agencies, to try and sort things out. Well, Roosevelt did. TVA - Tennessee Valley Authority. That is the only one i remember. Keddie would be ashamed. But yes, Roosevelt did some good, and actually did something. As much as I hate egg-man and his merry band of upper-class twits (all of whom have won the prestigious 'Upper Class Twit of the Year Award' at least once in their pitiful lives) I fear it will be they who sort us out in this recession. Hopefully once they're done, Vince Cable and his merry band of fence-sitters will swoop in and make everything a bit more fun.

Anyway. Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo. I think I already explained, it's just another French defeat celebration day.Happy days. So Katie dragged me to Aldi, and ASDA, for Tequila and whatever else she bought yesterday. Oooh. I bought a box of wine from Aldi. "Badger's Creek." It looks so bad.However, Katie made Quesadillas (pronounced 'kesadiyas') and Fajitas (pronounced Fahitas) (not to be confused with pajita, which means straw... so I'm told.). They were really yummy. They actually were.

So, now my day will consist of returning to the library when it opens in 9 minutes, and working like mad on my Cross-Cultural Project. Bad times.

Trapped in a Box.

Well, a whole 16 minutes ago I logged onto this wonderous computer. 9 minutes ago, it finally decided to log me on. I hate library computers. I intend to do work so I can go and celebrate 'Cinco de Mayo' this evening. Not, as I thought, Mexican Independence Day. Just a day when the Mexicans celebrate defeating the French. It seems that everyone has had a go at the French. Anywho, I got to the library early, I was sat on the bus thinking 'I do hope it's open'. This is my life. I do however have a can of Relentless cleverly concealed in a bottle of Ribena. I say cleverly concealed, I just drank the Ribena, and poured the Relentless in.

Yesterday was poo. It rained. It was freezing. I got 40-42 on an essay. An all-time low. However, I had answered the wrong question. So, to say I passed on an essay that I didn't answer, I'm quite impressed. Catalan was erm... it's usual rushed self. I'm starting to tire of Catalan, although it is still my 'foreign language of choice' when talking to myself in foreign. I'm honestly not crazy. Okay. Maybe a little. But still.

Què et passa pel cap?

This is Facebook's Catalan version of the 'What's on your mind?' bit of Facebook. It used to be 'Que estas fent ara mateix?', which I much prefered. Something else I dislike about Catalan Facebook is that it's very rude. It assumes I like being 'tutoyer'd'. For those non-Francophones, this is the informal form of addressing to someone. For those people who think they are clever when they use 'Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?', this uses the polite form, or indeed the 'you plural' form. So they are either asking someone politely to sleep with them, or asking alot of people to have an orgy with them. Anyway, French Facebook asks you everything in the 'vous' form, known as 'to vouvoyer', whilst Catalan asks everything in the Catalan equivalent of the 'tu' form. I just found it quite rude.

Yesterday's happiness waned a bit last night, so I decided to find Eurovision songs. I actually quite like Spain's entry. Mainly because I can understand most of the Spanish. What is concerning me is: 'Quiero clavarte mi cruz', which I think means 'I want to lock you in my cross'. Now, we all assume Spain are quite Catholic, but who knew they were all about the crucifying.

I have taken to eating fruit recently. Recently means, as of yesterday. I purchased some raspberries from ASDA, and some 'Cripps Pink' apples, thinking they were like the nice Pink Ladies, but cheaper. This was a lie. They're not nice, but at the same time, they're edible. So I shall cope. Also not nice from ASDA, Yum Yums. I was let down. They were not as nice as Sainsbury's superior Yum Yums.

Oh, look! Her legs have grown back!

Well, last night was a jolly good night out, for Jen's 21st birthday. I got through a whole bottle of Martini Rosso. Neat. Before we even left the house. Yet, I still managed to stagger about town, and drink more whilst out. It was a marvellous night. Seriously, it was that good, that I have had to unearth forgotten adjectives to describe its greatness.

Anyway, today was mostly spent going 'ughhhh'. [Oh, Martin, it's all falling to pieces - Interjects Katie] Slight hangover, followed by an unexpected feeling of happiness. So, all is good. Plus, Katie has her car now, and we went to Morecambe. And sat on the beach. Not the cockle-pickers beach. The safe, non-sinky-sand beach. It was good, and sunny. If a tad chilly. Then went t'Asda, and spent alot of money, on stuff I didn't really need. Again. It is a place of evil. Or as someone recently put it, 'the bar in Star Wars'. From the first film. The proper first film, not the fake 'prequel'.

And, 'We teach people to finger knit'. On that note, I shall take my leave.

"I'm sick of this dress, and these Jimmy Choo's"

I actually really, REALLY, hate this song. Apart from the fact that it is shit, it will now hold a very special place of hatred in my heart, for it was the song that was on the radio as the dentist gave me my first fillings today. Surprisingly the giant metal needle (it really was huge) didn't hurt that much. Just like a normal injection. It must just be my painful memory of the one I had in the roof of my mouth (or 'pallet' as dentist folk call it). But yes, apart from feeling like my mouth was drooping and I kept slavering out of the side of it for the next couple of hours, all is okay. Apart from the minor twang of pain I'm feeling around that area. Nothing Martini cannot solve.

This brings me onto the topic of my sisters orthodontist. She goes to a different one I went to. It is really weird. All the chairs are in the same room, not facing each other, my sister assures me, and so all the relatives of their children can see other children in pain. It is a poor design. That and 'S Club 7' were playing in the background (Don't Stop Moving, I believe). Sinister, or what? Another thing which made me chuckle there, was that I saw this woman who was the spitting image of Margaret from The Apprentice (You know, the one who came up with the Cassandra analogy). It was odd.

Today, I, oh God, it's terrible just even telling you about it, got the train back from the Shire to Lancastria. It was fine, if a little busy, and then this woman, named Maria, sat next to me. I spent the first 15 minutes of the train journey thinking "oh God, please get off. Stop talking on your phone." Then she stopped talking on her phone. And talked to me. To be fair, I was totally wrong about her, she was a lovely woman who gave me some good advice. Wether I take on her advice is a different matter, but we shall see. I liked her box analogy. We work in boxes, we go home in our little boxes, we live in our little boxes. All about boxes. They work like bubbles, but are boxes, and fit together a bit better.

Well, that is all yogur-readers! Fare well!