Time to Say Goodbye

Well, folks, the parents are on their way over (with certain confusion ahead), and then I will be without computer availablity for a week. Thus, enjoy the awards. Savor them, in fact. Hope the end of the semester/year finds you all well.

Signing off...

BarbAwards 2002!

Best Way to Get Sozzled Before Winter Carnival Ball: Clockwork Oranges & Brett that Favre!
Best Accessorizing with a Nalgene: Perry Blackshire
Sketchiest Pick-Up Line: “Let’s fuck.”
Best Movie to Watch Once & Erase from Memory FOREVER: Body Shots
Most Valuable Playa: Karl P. Whittington
Worst Idea Ever: Choreographing the premier Britney number for RIDDIM
Best Place to Get a Sweater for $15: Miami Abercombie & Fitch
Sketchiest Feb Break Couple: Freddie & Blush Girl
Most Viewings of He Died with a Felafel in His Hand: Karl
Loudest Snores Ever: Australian Hostelgoer #1
Most Violent Reaction to Aforementioned Australian Hostelgoer: Random Sicilian Kid
Best Way to Drive Yourself to the Edge: 5 Classes, 2 Dance Shows, Writing for the Campus & Peer Writing Tutoring
Most Uncomfortable10 Hours of My Life: Post midnight breakfast in Voter
Best Freshman Seminar Professor Who Could Double for Roberto Benigni: Tom Van Order
Surefire Method of Pissing off the Brits during Waiting for Guffman: Recite every line just a moment before it actually comes on and then repeat it afterwards for emphasis
Easiest Way To Get An A in Timothy Billings’ Class: Suck up like a Hoover & write an article on him for the Campus

Best Summer Housing for Friends of Dorothy: Greenwich Ho(tel), NYU dorming
Best Place to Look & Not Touch: Naked Boys Singing
Best Month to Live it Large like Britney: July
Most Points for Masculine Navel Accessorizing: Brian Friedman
Worst Way to Spend Your Birthday: On a bus for 4 hours & locked out of your room
Best Underage Drinking Boutique Hotel: Hudson
Nice Vacationing from the City Suburb: Brookline, MA
Best 4th of July Fireworks Viewing: 30 Waterside Plaza
Best $16 Hamburger Deal: Nyla
Best Underage Drinking Mexican Cantina: Mary Ann’s on 4th St.
Most Overrated Rent Experience: Joey “the” Fatone as Mark
Summer Sleeper Hits: My Big Fat Greek Wedding & Lilo and Stitch

Most Boring Way to Spend 5 Weeks Alone in Birmingham: In Bed
Record Number of Videos Rented in Aforementioned Month: Me (lost count)

Best Sangria: Pedro’s, Norwich
Best Way to Spend Wednesday Night: Sex & the City & Ally McBeal (get it while ya can!)
Best Way to Learn About Snooker: "Diamond" Dan Smith
Favorite Norwich Boozebasin: The Lounge
Most Creative Use of Flames: Kaffe Da
Best Song by a Cunning Linguist: “Down Boy”, Holly Valance
Most Charming Movie where the Boom Mic Appears Enough to Be a Character: Bend It Like Beckham
Most Popular Flat for Things Going Bump (& Grind) in the Night: 33H, Courtyard B
Best Use of the Phrase “I don’t give a fuuuuuuck!”: Gaby from the Bronx
Easiest Way to Contract Food Poisoning: Leave out a pound of mince & a gallon of Fudge Ripple ice cream
Hottest Water Hole in GAY Paris: Le Tango
Best 70s Time Warp: Katie & Mary’s Apartment, 7th Arrondisement, Paris
Best Place to Test Your Cat-Like Reflexes: Village Crosswalk
Stalktacularity Honorable Mention: British Buscemi & the elusive UEA Ryan Gosling
Favorite Poet Who Doesn’t Like to Paint Herself with That Brush: Laura Spence
Best Song off the New David Gray Album: “Be Mine”
Best Song off the New Matchbox20 Album: “Bright Lights”
Sexiest Newcomer Award: Ryan Gosling
Best Bitter Break-Up Video: “Cry Me a River”, Justin Timberlake
Most Torrid Unrequited Love Affair: Me & Ben Silverstone
Best Tribute Band: Bjorn Again
Where I Wish I'd Gone, but Alas! Did Not: The Loft (yay gays!)
Worst Way to Lose an Hour of Your Life That You’ll Never Get Back… EVER: “Duckbill Hickcock” by Jim McCool
Best Way to Feel Clever & Artsy: Chill ’Em Out Jazz Cafe & Poetry Slam
Potential First Client for Out & Proud (my coming-out service): Li’l Aaron
Favorite Village Himbo: Tom “Baby Lee”
Man of the Woods Award: Michael G. Robinson (Hon. Mention: His 2 Neckerchiefs)
Worst Way to Churn out 5,000 Words: Over a 2-day period in which you’ve had only 5 hours’ sleep
Best BLT for My Pound: Sportspark
Best UK Original: McVitie's Digestive Biscuits (they're cookies, and they're SO good)
Worse Culinary Idea: Fish Pie (vomit)
Favorite Fresher: Rachael
Best Love-Hate Coexistence: Elaine, the cleaning lady
Sexiest Pardon: Matt

T-minus 2 hours, and the computer lab is getting full and crazy.

Edit number 1 for each paper: check!

Maybe I should call it quits and go buy a magazine...

I'll be in London in 2 days...
I'll be in my bed in 4 hours (3 if I'm lucky, but I'm not feelin' so lucky)...

Such a good song

It's sitting by the overcoat
The second shelf, the note she wrote
That I can't bring myself to throw away
And also
Reach she said for no one else but you,
Cuz you won't turn away
When someone else is gone

I'm sorry 'bout the attitude
I need to give when I'm with you
But no one else would take this shit from me
And I'm so
Terrified of no one else but me
I'm here all the time
I won't go away
Yeah it's me, yeah I can't get myself to go away
Hey it's me and I can't get myself to go away
Oh God I shouldn't feel this way

Chorus:
Reach down your hand in your pocket
Pull out some hope for me
It's been a long day, always ain't that right
And no Lord your hand won't stop it
Just keep you trembling
It's been a long day, always ain't that right

Well I'm surprised that you'd believe
In anything that comes from me
I didn't hear from you or from someone else
And you're so
Set in life man, a pisser they're waiting
Too damn bad you get so far so fast
So what, so long

(Chorus)
Oh ain't that right?

It's me, yeah well I can't get myself to go away
Hey it's me, yeah well I can't get myself to go away
Oh God I shouldn't feel this way now

(Chorus)

Yeah reach down your hand in your pocket now
Reach down your hand right now
It's been a long day, always
Ain't that right?
Reach down your hand in your pocket now
Reach down your hand right now
It's been a long day, always
Ain't that right?
Oh ain't that right?
Ain't that right right right on child?
Right right right on right on child.

T-minus: 4 hrs. 20 mins.

A few simple rules

Chris Rock said no sex in the champagne room, well I say shut the hell up in the computer lab. It's 7 a.m., for goodness sake.

In other news, my discman (despite its hiptastic clear cover) is a whore.

T-minus. 4 hours 49 minutes.

This place is a friggin' ghetto

They know it's the final week of classes. They know people will be printing out an inordinate number of pages due to papers and dissertations. And perhaps I should have realized that a school with 9,000 students and 10 printers would be out of paper at 5 a.m. on the last day of classes, but for God's sake, people, just risk it and leave out some paper in the 24-hour computer lab over night! I had to scrounge around and make my paper 10 font/1.5 spacing because of lack of paper. Also, for the record, I HATE people who try to print out their fecking papers 28 times before realizing that the printer has no paper and then don't clear off their printing jobs. I've lost 10 pages this week, and this is a week when I NEED those 10 pages!

I miss Midd where I have my own printer, and even if I didn't, I'd have free printing privileges and facilities to recycle all those pages wasted by idiots.

Other than that, I had a rousing walk to the comp lab @ 5 a.m. I believe the theme of it was, "Please don't let me get mugged." I don't care where or who you are, no one can feel safe walking alone through the dark streets at such an early (or late, as it were) hour.

So, I've got about 6000 words that I need to trim down to 5000 (5500 max) in the next 6 hours. Oh yeah, and there's that whole "making a clear, concise, well-stated point" thing, but I gave that up somewhere in Week 6.

I am officially ready to get outta here! Back to the land of moisture socks, shoes without holes and MTN. DEW! **tears just thinkin' about it**

Picture This

So, I'm listening to Rob Thomas and Matchbox20's rendition of "Time After Time" and thinking This song is soooo beautiful. Cooooo.

Then I get this visual in my head: Rob Thomas, dressed up in Cyndi Lauper's 80s wear a la "Girls Just Want To Have Fun," running through the streets with a crowd of streaky-haired moxy grrrls, having a rollicking good time because, after all, that's all they really waaaaa-ah-ah-ah-ant. (The just wanna, just wanna-ah-ah.)

The question: Funny or scary?

Caroline, if you're reading this, remember that heinous retreat where you, me, Laura Ann & Melanie attempted to be clever to this song? I do -- blank faces all around! **cringe**

Once More onto the Breach

So, my friends, the time between me and freedom narrows, as does the word gap. Last night, I pumped out a whopping 3400 words. The problem? The essay is only supposed to be 2,500, so I've got to cut out a good 700 words to make it safely within the +10% allowance. However, no stress. I am of the mind that it's better to have too much than not enough.

The shoes without holes countdown is now 2 days!
The London countdown is now 3 days!

However, I don't know how good those days are gonna be. Tonight will be a repeat of last night's paper-writing frenzy, which will probably climax in me finishing my paper in the wee hours of the morning and tromping it over to the 24-hour computer lab (I can't wait until I have a printer again!) for an equally frenzied revision session. But frankly, apathy holds much greater sway over me than the need to do well just because. Yay for grades not counting. As long as I don't botch it too much, it's aces.

In a related note, I have observed the trend of loopiness pervading away messages all over the globe. It seems exams suck the few fibers of sanity that we have left. Well, crazies, I say "Good for you!" Savor your madness. In a couple of years, we won't even be allowed that.

Now on to 2,500 words about The Women and Top Girls. Yay evils of capitalist feminism!

Today's Blog (working title)

So, my newest song of desire & inspiration: Bright Lights by Matchbox20.

Went to see David Lynch's Mulholland Drive. I want to know what that man does in his spare time. You can't help but imagine him sitting in a dark room, bleeding himself waiting for loopy inspiration. On the flipside, I'm also tempted to see him as an everyman who goes out into the sunshine-y green grass-iness of LA, walking a Golden Retriever all the while. I think somewhere more in the middle is probably accurate. However, of his adoring minions I have a less charitable view. Kind of like how people who love Marilyn Manson just can't be entirely normal (judgmental? yes!) because to purchase his music you mustn't allow yourself to believe it's a farce, that he's laughing all the way to the bank with his freakshow. I suppose my sensibilities in all kinds of music, but primarily towards the acoustic-singer-songwriter and bubble-gum-pop milieus, paint me with the generic brush, and I won't be so pompous as to disallow that.

Still, I wonder what you say when you meet someone like David Lynch. Do you pounce on him with questions that he'll undoubtedly not answer, or do you just avoid the topic of his films altogether so that you don't look like an ass when you give a look or make a statement that makes it apparent you're confused just like the rest of us. Upon meetin him, I'm sure my instincts would go towards "What the fuck?!"

So, what else to say? Oh yeah, Bjorn Again was SOOOOO much fun! They played "Livin' on a Prayer," for goodness sake. And it was so beautifully cheesy, I can't even discuss. Perfect cap-off to my misspent semester. I'm playing with the idea of forming a transgendered tribute "band" to *NSync. I would, of course, be Lance.

Now I must go off and read Clare Boothe Luce's The Women, which for some reason has no criticism on it. What's that about? Guess I should have taken the hint when the UEA library only had one copy of it in a random "Great Plays of 1937" anthology. Oh well, I'll send Michael G. Robinson the smackdown with all my wit and brilliance about Top Girls, and then just use it as a bouncing board on which to posit my commentary on The Women. God, I sound pretentious: "posit my commentary"?!

In the word of Powers, "Owt".

London countdown: 4 days!
Shoes without holes in them countdown: 3 days!

800 words down; 5,000 more between me & freedom

A lolligag of thoughts, as I'm saving up all my organizing/clarity skills for the aforementioned 5,000 words.

... Do I really punch that hard? I've been punching people from excitement or for emphasis lately, to which they always respond, "Ouch!" I tend to think it's more of an endearing gesture than not, and I also take it with a grain of salt because the word "Ouch" is like saying "nothing" when someone asks you "What's up?" nowadays. Maybe I should stop it anyway...

... David Gray's "Be Mine" is the greatest song ever (at the moment). I adore it. Here are the lyrics & a song snippet just for you!...

... In a related note, I would also have David Gray's babies. I think he'd give up the bottle if he could have the love of a woman named Lanford Beard...

... Tonight is Bjorn Again -- hope I can get jazzed enough to give this ABBA tribute band the respect they so richly deserve...

... London countdown: 6 days!...

... I will also miss the British Buscemi and his sonnets about Paris, coffee and whatnot...

... I had a moment of beauty today. It wasn't anything (now-)cliched like the American Beauty paper bag, but the light was just right, the leaves were an autumnal brown, the grass was a surprising and beautiful green, and the sky was blue-blue-blue. Everything was glossed over in honey for that one moment...

... I think they call the 24-Hour Lab by that name because it takes that long for the frickin' computers to log on to my personal settings. I think, however, that they should call it the "58 million degree lab" because that's how damn hot it is in there. With the subpolar temperatures and soul-freezing windchill outside, I don't think the scratching, aching sensation in my throat is a good one...

... I can officially say that my semester was a failure. That's not to say that there weren't good times, good people, etc., but I was worthless. I would say that I have made a fine art out of sitting on my rump, but I was too lazy to even do that. Let's take stock. What were my goals this semester?
1.) Get me a British boy. --> Nuttin.
2.) Sharpen on my journalistic acumen. --> If by "sharpen my journalistic acumen" I meant become even more lazy and apathetic, check!
3.) Travel around. --> Did get to go to Spain, Paris & Venice, but I wasn't on-the-ball enough to get in more UK travel.
4.) Like it enough to maybe stay an extra semester. --> Do the words "get me out of this God-forsaken place ring a bell?
I'm sure there are more, but I'm too lazy to think of them -- shockingly...

... I'm developing a commentary on how reality television (particularly shows like American Idol, Fame Academy, anything musical) is pop culture masturbation. We're basically congratulating ourselves for writing such classic songs and perpetuating their existence through vassals like Gareth Gates and his cronies...