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I'm experimenting with tea.

I ran out, last week. So I dutifully headed down to the tea shop to stock up.

Usually, I'll buy one black tea I've had before (and know I like) and one that I've never tried. This time, I decided to be different, and buy a non-black tea I've never tried: Roses.

Yep. Roses. It smelled like pot-pourri; it tastes like... well, kind of like what you'd expect mushy petals in hot water to taste like. (Not good, in fact.)

I could always throw out my drinkable pot-pourri and return to familiar old black tea... but instead, I decided to experiment.

I am now drinking black tea (flavoured with a slight hint of vanilla) combined with a lot of roses. And with milk in it.

It's actually pretty nice...
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Apparently I have whooping cough!

As a long-term reader of old novels, I've always felt a bit left out. All these characters would be getting german measles, and mumps, and consumption - and I, boringly, lived in a world with vaccinations, and couldn't get anything more exciting than a virus.

NOW, though...

Whooping cough!!!

So far? Not so excitingly romantic and fictional. It mainly seems to involve lots of coughing, losing your voice, and doctors sighing and giving you heaps of antibiotics.

(For my next trick, I plan to wear a long dress, participate in a taffy pull, and become a one-room-school teacher.)


May. 10th, 2010 03:13 pm
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We all went over to my parents' house yesterday, to help clean out a lot of old stuff in the storage shed.

I had my sister approach me with a bag, and say determinedly "Okay. Decision time: keep, or throw away."

I was sitting there thinking Throw away, clearly. After all, I can't remember anything that's still stored here, and it therefore can't be that important to me.

...and then she pulled out a teddy bear.

A tiny, scruffy old teddy bear.

And I took one look at him, and remembered all about his personality, and his friendship with the other bears, and oh, there were other bears too, and all about their personalities...

Needless to say, I couldn't bear the thought of them being thrown away. They are now living in my toy box, waiting for nephews to visit and play with them.

I am sentimental and foolish. And have many bears.
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I have a copy of Hart's Rules!
It has rules for editing spelling! And for the page numbers! And for printing excerpts in Greek! And for publishing lists of maths equations!

*drools over awesome book of awesome*

(Seriously - I literally squeed over this thing during the class last night. Most normal people would think I was insane.)

In other news: FOUR text messages in the middle of last night. The first one arrived at 10:20, and for some reason I thought it was my alarm, misread the time as 6:20, got up, and had a shower. Then I had to go back to bed with sopping wet hair...

BAD dream

Dec. 5th, 2009 06:09 am
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To my sisters:

You are both utterly wonderful.

And you know why? Because you did not name your eldest sons Ceryn and Failcat. For which I will be forever grateful.

*dreamt about crappily-named nephews last night, and woke up sweating*


Nov. 13th, 2009 01:52 pm
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While depositing money at the bank today, I discovered that someone had, at some point in the recent past, given me a 20c coin from Fiji, instead of an Australian one.

(20 cents from Fiji is exactly the same size, colour, and basic look as an Australian 20 cents. But it's not legal tender, so banks won't accept it.)

My first thought:
"Ack! Some bastard has given me the incorrect coin so that he could get rid of it! How horribly unfair! Stupid horrible person!"

My second thought:
"Hmm. Next time I have to give someone loose change, I'll have to surreptitiously hand them this one, so it can be their problem instead of mine..."

The irony didn't really strike me until a few minutes ago.
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Remember my wonderfully delicious looseleaf tea?

Well, I have a policy of not having more than two cups of tea a day. And I already had tea at home this morning, so I'm not allowed to have another one until later.

This, though, is not deterring me at all.

I am currently sitting at my desk, entering numbers into a spreadsheet, with the open box of tea in front of me - so that I can sniff at it enthusiastically in between typing.

It just smells so nice!
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...but for some reason, I suddenly want to make a Dollhouse vid to Jonathan Coulton's song "Chiron Beta Prime".

Yes, I'm very very weird.
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My housemate's boyfriend lent me season 2 of Torchwood.

Last night, he came into the living room and found me yelling at the TV: "Crappy show! You're being so STUPID! And Jack is not the centre of the universe! Crappy show! Shut up, all of you!" ...over the top of Jack trying to talk meaningfully to his team in a very heartfelt way.

Given that he had, as I said, lent me the show (after I asked him nicely if he would), I think he was a little surprised.

He was even more surprised when I grinned happily and promptly kept watching it.
...and then yelled some more a few minutes later.

Torchwood is insanely stupid and annoying, but very fun to watch - in a masochistic sort of way.
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So, I'm doing the Remix.

I am clearly mad. But also having far too much fun to care...
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Occasionally, my cat has to re-learn the idea that Mummy Does Not Get Up Until Mummy's Alarm Clock Goes Off.

The thing is, this isn't always true. Sometimes I wake up really early, and get up pre-alarm. Sometimes I just don't set my alarm at all.
So the poor dear gets confused.

And he wants company in the mornings. So he tries to get me up as early as possible.

...which I wouldn't mind, if it was five minutes or so before my alarm. But, like I said, he gets confused. And tries getting me up at 4am. (And then, continuously, every few minutes until I finally give in.)

So, re-teaching him this idea occasionally is rather essential.

This week is one of those weeks. Every morning, I've been waking up at 5:45, and having to pretend to be fast asleep even though Elf is jumping on my face.
And then my alarm clock goes off, and I go into a huge pantomime version of getting up, complete with massively loud yawns, big arm-stretches, and lots of loud talk about how I'm awake now!

One week of this, and he should be back to Get Mummy Up When Alarm Goes Off for at least another month...
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I've been cross-stitching lately, which generally involves me putting TV shows I know well on in the background, so that I have something to keep me from getting bored with the cross-stitchiness.


Lately, my Cross-Stitching Background TV has been Lois & Clark, season 3. All very fun and entertainingly nutty.

Now, though, I've reached an episode I absolutely HATE. Not because it's actually all that bad - but the emotional stuff the characters are going through is just painful, and unnecessarily painful, and I don't want to watch that episode again.


I was kind of watching them all in order...

So, instead of SKIPPING the episode, and putting the NEXT one on for me to cross-stitch to, like a sensible person would, I have put the episode on, left the room, and retreated to my computer, where I am frantically reading websites and playing solitaire until the episode GOES AWAY.

...because, then, I won't have watched them out of order. But I'll still get to not watch this unwatchable episode.

Yes, I am indeed a loon.

*continues to avoid my living room for another 20 minutes*
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I've been reading some of the Crazy Prepared Troper Tales on TV Tropes.

These are people who have survival plans for dealing with hostile alien invasions, have figured out how to grow yeast in case society collapses and they urgently need to make bread, and have fake passports in case they ever go on the run.

While I'm not nearly as Prepared as some of these people, I'll tell you what I do have:
my list of insane preparedness )
I'm also trying to find out how to pick locks, and hotwire cars.
Yes, I'm crazy...


Feb. 6th, 2009 07:54 am
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Of course, the thing with new boots is that they have to be worn in.

I could do this by wearing them for three days straight and going hiking, but that leads to blisters and soreness, so I'd like to avoid it if possible.

The other alternative is to wear them for a couple of hours every day, for about a week (or possibly a bit more).
This is a good strategy, and I approve of it.

Of course, I can't wear them for a couple of hours in the middle of the day, because I'm at work. So I've been putting them on in the evenings, and wearing them round the house.

Please, take a moment to picture me, folding laundry, wearing flannel pyjamas and bright red boots...


Oct. 23rd, 2008 03:27 pm
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One of the bench seats at Parliament station has been roped off, due to one of its supports having collapsed and the whole thing now being tipped sideways on a very weird angle.

Am I a sick sick person for wishing I'd been there to see all the people slide off the end of it when it fell over?
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Some day soon, the Social Norms Police are going to break down my door, arrest me for "violating accepted standards of conversation with strangers, and profiting from said violation", and cart me off to the funny farm.

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I am currently performing an impressive feat of the imagination.

It's all to do with Charthia (my country) and Merotia (my other country). You see, Merotia currently exists in an entirely underground, illegal, roguish kind of way. This makes it tricky for me to figure out what Merotia is actually LIKE, because I tend to define it purely in terms of its reaction to Charthia.

So, in order to get a clearer idea of how Merotia works, I am making notes on what it WOULD be like if it was the only country around, and Charthia didn't exist.

In summary: I am comparing and contrasting two imaginary countries that I made up, by pretending that one of those countries doesn't exist (in my imagination, given that it already doesn't exist in reality) and thus inventing a THIRD country (the second country without the influence of the first one) so that I can figure out what the second one is like RIGHT NOW when the first country DOES exist (in my imagination, at least). And the third country doesn't really exist at all (in the non-existant imaginary space of the first and second countries), but I can still use it at a handy reference point when making up the other two countries.

As you might have noticed, I have very little to do today.
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If you got a D4, a D6, a D8, a D10, a D12, and a D20 (but not a percentile die, because that would just be dumb), and rolled them all together, you would be most likely to end up on the number 33.

In fact, out of the 460800 different combinations of dice rolling possible, 21580 of them would give you a result of 33.

The next most likely numbers (32 and 34) would only occur on 21461 different combinations (each - you'd have a chance of 42922 / 460800 of getting either 32 or 34).

Of course, the most likely number (33, for those of you who aren't listening carefully) would only have a 4.6% chance of appearing, so pretty much any dice roll with this set would be reasonably random.
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Those of you who are familiar with me being angry will know that I almost invariably end up writing poems about it.
Well, I turned down Pratty Email Guy when he asked me out AGAIN, and he called me an insane bitch. And I spent most of yesterday annoyed about it, and vowing that I wouldn't write ANY poetry about it, because he didn't even deserve that. And then I went and wrote it down...

You will not get a poem
Cause I will not waste my time
On a short insipid moron man
Who isn't worth a dime
You think I really give a crap
What you think about me?
If I did, I'd be much more pathetic
Than even you can be
I will not write a word on you
I will not waste my breath
You don't deserve a poem
All you do deserve is death
What a whiny weepy bastard
You can be when you get going
Well, you can go and drown yourself
And I'll go write a poem

I really have a weird brain...


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October 2010



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