I've Moved!

Not usually one to follow the herd, I'm, um, following the herd.

www.rubysomeday.wordpress.com

Get it while it's hot!

The Break-Up

Dear John,

It's not you it's me. Well, actually, it is you. It's not that I don't remember the good times. You've been there with me through an entire love affair, and really, I can't imagine what I would have done without you. And how you were so stubborn about letting me use labels! Ah, good times.

When it came down to it, it was the good old 'pros and cons' list that did you in. You're so customizable, so easy to post pictures, so user-friendly. But Wordpress. It's just so damn pretty. And yes, I was very happy with us before it turned my head. Truth be told, the layout of all my old posts are bent out of shape about this transfer. But, Blogger, I can write password-protected posts over there. And while it doesn't let me move things around quite so much, it's just... well, sexier.

I'm sorry it's over, I really am. But if you ever need me, you can find me at www.rubysomeday.wordpress.com. It's not too late for us, Blogger. You can still make it up to me. It's been a swell ride, and I'll never forget you.

Adios,

love, Chica xxx

P.S. I reserve the right to come crawling back if it all goes tits up.

Alloway Grove

It's a beautiful day outside and I had plans to meet up with Dedalus that I've had to cancel. We were going to do lunch at Tabac. I'm full of cold, again, and feel like my head is in a vice (yet I'm still blasting music from my laptop speakers.) I blame my erratic sleeping schedule since Bertie came to live with us. He's really very good, but he's just exhausting! At the moment, I'm allowing him to eat a pair of Boyf's pyjama bottoms because it's keeping him quiet.

Yesterday, my swanky new phone arrived. It's a Samsung D900 and I've just about got to grips with it. It's not even pink ya'll - I went for performance over girlieness! I guess I really am growing up. I purged my contacts list and it's quite shocking how many people I've fallen out of touch with. I have to say there are only about twelve people on there that I actually bother texting. And that's including Alfie who I never text anymore for obvious reasons but to whom I forwarded my new number in a big group message that began with a casual "Hi all." (I think I can record video on it and put it on here, but that's a bit advanced for someone who just figured out how to store her sent messages.) But looking at my meagre contacts makes me wonder just how I'm going to use up all this credit I've paid for. In the old days, I used to blow about fifty quid on my phone over the weekend.

Yes, I'm still mourning the old days for the foreseeable future. Girl can't help it. But at least I'm not carrying those 200 messages from him around with me anymore, you'll be glad to know MJ! They're safely stored on my old phone and will be put away to gather dust.

Anyhoo, the studying is not going very well. I need to write something a bit more meaty on alternative readings of Dorcas in Toni Morrison's Jazz, and then I need to bell hooks a bit of my chapter on the burden of representation. My chapter on The Edible Woman and Kafka's "A Hunger Artist" is looking a bit like a wasteland. Did I mention my deadline is May first? Meh, at least I have an idea of what actually needs to be done. That's progress for me, right?

Fastest Fingers First

I set my alarm clock this morning so that I could get up and buy myself some beautiful, enchanted, mesmerising Take That tickets. I loaded up the ticket website, tried to log in before the tickets went On Sale at 9, to no avail. Bitch kept crashing. I'd completely forgotten my password, so I wanted to sign in early so that I could change it. No such luck. Should've done it last night like any reasonable person with half a functioning brain would have done. But no. Tried to buy tickets from 9 o'clock onwards. At 25 past, it finally let me through to the booking page, and I had there on the screen in front of me, two reserved tickets, for Block B.

Block B! I could have smelled Jason Orange's sweat from there. So, I gets to the log in page and ask them to reset my password, typing frantically. By the time I'd entered in the new 30 digit long (exaggerating) mess of numbers and letters they'd assigned me, my 60 second allowance period was up and the tickets were released. Released, from my sweaty little clutches!

Motherfucker.

I tried for a further two hours and it just kept crashing. The closest I got was the search page, which I sat and watched for about half an hour, before it crashed at a mocking 5 minutes to go. Then I gave up, because I had to go and meet my friend and give her some interview advice, because she's applying for a university library job.

I consoled myself with the idea that maybe they'd add more dates and I could be more armed and ready for the next ticket sale. This was not to be. In the time it took for me to walk up to the top of the street and back, have a quick chat with my friend, which took less than an hour, more dates were announced, tickets went on sale, and virtually sold out. I'm trying alternative ticket sites now for the few that seem to be left (the other ticket site have stopped selling them.) They're still crashing.

Woe is me. I'm never going to get such a good chance to smell Jason Orange's sweat again.

Don't Label Me

I'm liking my new blog layout. I know it's not very original but it's neat-looking and the colours are pretty. A change is as good as a holiday, they say! Cannot get labels to function no matter what I try though. All the right boxes are checked. I don't even particularly feel my blog needs labels, but because it's not working and I don't know why, it's eating away at me like... like, some sort of flesh eating ant and I am the picnic!

An Alfie label would be pretty redundant anyways, huh?

Bizarrely, I seem to be getting some of my interests back. This may sound weird, but I stopped enjoying a lot of the things I traditionally enjoyed while I was consumed by the Alfie stuff with the burning fire of a thousand suns. I'm even able to converse with people about a multitude of subjects again! Much to the relief of everyone I know. I'm currently viewing my time with Alfie with a mixture of great amusement and incredulity. (Ya'll don't have to congratulate me, I'm patting myself of the back... with my good arm.)

Stella got her groove back, and she likes it.

My Boy Lollipop

I just survived two and a half hours on the computer helpdesk with minimal knowledge of computers. Basically, I was an usher, referring people to the other computer assistant and selling them snacks and beverages... oh okay, discs and print credits. I nearly died when I saw it on the timetable, but it actually made the time pass really quickly. This morning I woke up like a bear with a sore head. I hate dark mornings.

EDIT: Chicken Stu, the bloke in charge of the comp desk, nipped out for a ciggy and bought me a drumstick lollipop for my hard work! (I hope I'm still getting paid :P) I'm quite touched! :) Also noticed that I'm back on the comp desk tomorrow though - bracing myself.

In other news, CONGRATS go out to Guillermo, who is now a published author!

Must go clock back in and leave my life at the door! I'll leave you with these memorable quotes:

Weezer, on the result of dyeing her hair brown: "Oh well, it's Halloween soon."

P.Diddy (a colleague), on Mein Kampf: "Do you know what happens? The small man with the black moustache did it."

Boyf, to a man in his fifties getting out of a suped-up car blasting rave music: "Mid-life crisis mate?"