WATCH IT AND WEEP FROM LAUGHTER. ahhahahah! And the best part of this was that we watched it in class. Our teacher had tears coming down his face from laughing. Best course ever.

Monday's are generally bad days for me. I have class that starts at 8am and ends at 2pm. No breaks inbetween. So I'm running from one class to the next. And at the end of the afternoon I'll trudge back home weary and hungry. Ahah. Due to (cough!) wonderful time management, I pulled another all nighter (more or less, unless you count an hour of closing your eyes as sleep).

So! My presentation is now over. AND IT WAS WORTH IT. The teacher and friends liked it, and I'm pretty happy with it (considering I did literally everything at the last minute). Everything translates to 3 finalized, fully mocked up shirt designs, swing tags, a logo design, and a promotional poster. All in one night! Hah.

To my utter delight, the morning's lecture was cancelled. :) And now its pouring cats and dogs, and I'm snug and warm at home, coffee in hand and Adele plugged in. I love gloomy weather. It makes me happy...okay I'm now going to bed. =.=

Les Miserables

Super stoked to go watch Les Miserables live at the Regal Theatre! Hah. Okay I've realised I've really got nothing to say other than how stoked I am. I think the one thing I'll miss about Perth when I'm gone are all these performances at the theatre. I'd gladly blow all my money on these things.

I remember a friend telling me her boss has watched the Phantom of the Opera on Broadway at least 40 times. Forty! Such a fan. I couldn't believe it. I've not even been granted the privilege of seeing it once. So I resign myself to watching youtube videos and recorded broadway performances. Hah. The day will come! I remember not too long ago Ramin Karimloo came down to KL for 'A Night with the Phantom'. He's one of the most popular phantoms throughout, and anyway, you could go if you had a whopping $10,000 to spare. Hooolyyy craap. WHO has that kind of money. They must surely shit gold bars and have a whole secret army of golden geese that lay golden eggs. I'd be in agony at spending that sort of money even if I had it. Sigh. That man. Has a voice that makes ladies swoon.

I've finally begun to pick up on my reading, and begun to wonder why I ever lost interest in the first place. I think I was just making excuses for myself and being lazy, but man. Now that I've gotten back to it, it feels like escapism, where my imagination can just run wild and I can be immersed in a whole other world. I used to speed read, but now its the complete opposite. Hah. But ah, I enjoy it. I'm now reading the Count of Monte Cristo. There were several movies, but I'm holding off on watching until I finish the book (however long that may take).

 I watched the Les Miserables movie today (the one with Liam Neeson in it). So it was from a while ago, and without the singing. So when I go watch the musical at the theatre I'll actually know what's going on.  I think I've taken to watching Liam Neeson films just to hear his voice. ..that came out wrong. Haha. It started from Narnia. I think I was feeling down that day, and yeah, I watched Narnia. And when I heard Aslan start to speak, I just started crying. I know! Its horribly emotional. I watched it behind closed doors! SO MY DIGNITY IS INTACT. There is no shame! Haha. Although I should confess, it has happened a few times =.= so its not a one off thing. Mrmm.

And so I thought, this must be what God sounds like. Not Morgan Freeman. Liam Neeson. It felt safe, and loving and warm and wonderful. Okayyy. I should stop. But he's always in these paternal roles, so forgive me for believing. :[] like. Think about it, he's Qui-Gonn Jinn, Aslan, Jean Valjean, and...well, the list could go on.

This room I am in, I can say without doubt, must certainly be the seventh circle of hell for the eardrums.  Just outside to my left, four guitars going on at the same time, all playing different songs (thankfully now reduced to one). And outside, the neighbours are blasting the drivel that is known to most as pop. Our teacher asked us on the first day of class that if we could pick any one person, who we wanted dead in the world. The first would be Justin Bieber. But I imagine I'd have to beg god for more to add said neighbours to the list. Mrmm.

On a side, I finally got round to watching Batman! And at the end of it all I could think of was, 'Omg, poor Bane.' Yeaaaahh. I felt. . . I don't know. I know how its supposed to be an awesomely good movie, and yes it is, but I still left feeling. . . underwhelmed. I don't know. Its probably just me being annoyed at where I was seated and the light from a friend's phone from her constant texting/checking throughout. How it irks me to no end! I never wanted to crush anything more. Man. I think. The only reason I'm not violent with objects, is that I can't bear to clean up the mess afterward.

Now they're playing chinese songs. Ughhhh. Hands now clasped together, eyes toward heaven, mouth begging god to strike them all down with lightning.

Groan. Its five in the morning. T_T and I am still doing work. I know. I shouldn't be ranting. Or complaining. Seeing as how I've brought this upon myself. I think I am about to lose my no-all-nighters-yet virginity. HAH. Clearly I have never been any more lazier or unmotivated than I am now. Yawn. Sigh.

After this, it is slightly safe to say that I will be most enthused in doing my work, and not procrastinating/sleeping like a bear/stressing out at the last minute. Although. Deep breath. I can't even feel stressed now. My brain has flatlined. I don't know how I'm going to make it through the day. Groan.

:[] I have no talent for holding my tongue. But that much I imagine you already know.

Yesterday at cell, after everything was done and everybody was chilling and chatting, a friend picked up Jo's violin and started playing. I imagine she hadn't played in a long time from the sound of it. Anyway! She started playing 'Twinkle twinkle little star' and nothing else over and over again. And at some point I blurted out, completely without thought or tact,

"That star is dying."

Merde! And I can't say that I am even repentant for it.

Skulls and Ducks

I hardly ever dream at night (day dreaming would be another matter entirely, but we shall not speak of those things now). ANYWAY! I had the most screwed up dream last night. 


I had dreamt that I was going to get a tattoo. Not as random as it sounds I assure you! For a while now I've been admiring them, especially those that adorn the entire arm or half the body. Certainly not the half assed gay butterflies that wussies get or the ho-tags :[] and especially not your lover's name on your arm or ass or on whatever appendage you seek to adorn said name with. 


Alright! I'm in this old mansion (oddly enough, not a tattoo parlour) which has been divested of all of its furniture, sans a dentist's chair in the middle of an open room. (HOW DODGY IS THAT) This is sounding more and more like a horror scene about to happen. It is late evening at the golden hour, where the sunlight is warm and orange, casting everything in its golden glow. So we're good...for now. UNTIL THE SUN SETS AND THEM GHOSTS START COMING OUT. AND THEN YOU'RE TRAPPED IN THE MANSION ALL NIGHT WITH NO HOPE OF SURVIVAL. Pfft. Haha. Anyway. 


I climb into the chair, and oddly enough, my arms are already stencilled in (but hey, its a dream, so what happens just happens) and I have yet to see my tattoo artist. At that moment she waltzes through the door in all her glory.


 And lo and behold. Its my. ....Godmother. Like WHAAAT. How screwed up is this dream. I remember eyeing her suspiciously as she settles down to work, about to make this a very expensive and permanent mistake on my part. But she is all confidence and experience as she gets to work on my arm. As the needle breaks skin and I wince from the pain I realize it is no where near as painful as I had imagined it to be or heard it described. It feels like a trip to the dentist, where fear makes everything seem so much worse. So I think my predecessors wussies and crybabies, then in a semi lucid moment, realize that this is a dream, and I would probably be crying like a wussy/crybaby if it actually happened. She finishes inking in my arm, and then moves to my face. And I'm thinking, I don't remember my face being stenciled. Maybe it was and I just didn't know it. The tattoos on my arm look incredibly awesome, and I'm thinking I must've gotten a Maori tattoo for my face (honestly what else would you get, if not a tribal pattern for the face or ink it like a skull like Rick Genest did). The sweet old lady I have for a tattoo artist is finished and tells me I can go see her finished work in the adjoining bathroom. She takes her leave, and I wonder why she doesn't just hand me a mirror. 

I get up off the chair and walk to the bathroom, eager to see what my face looks like. And BEHOLD! I stare in horror at my face. 


AN ANGRY DONALD DUCK. SMACK IN THE MIDDLE OF MY FOREHEAD. The absolute horror! My face pales and I'm thinking how expensive it will be to get this removed, and how painful it might be and how if I don't laser it off, that I'll have to wear concealer on my forehead for the rest of my life. 

And mercifully I wake up and sink back into the bed and realize it was all a nightmare. And that I never have to live with donald duck on my forehead. Ever. 


I shall never look at that damn bird the same way again. I can only ever be filled with loathing for it. If this nightmare wasn't a sign from God to never get a tattoo, I don't know what is.