Saw Water For Elephants. It was excellent. Mainly because of this man...

He's amazing. Don't try to deny it because if you do you will be betraying the virtue of Honesty and Aristotle will not be a happy bunny. Just look at him. Then look at his acting skills. Then look at his dapper outfits. Christoph Waltz. Learn the name and weep because you're not sufficiently badass to be him.

Also, RPattz shitting himself when a lion tried to eat him; and also looking ridiculously drunk most of the time. JS.

Beautiful plot, too, but then book adaptations tend to have that going for them more than general films.

Not seen it yet? GO.

Also Ellie needs a mention for nearly destroying her Dad's car with her masterful parking skills, and also for taking me on a lovely picnic in an industrial park. We spotted the wild Sainsbury's trucks breaking free, spreading their wings and leaving the depot. We also entertained the people in the McDonald's drive through with some poker-straight parking. It was beautiful. :)

This evening...

has been quite honestly one of the most hilarious of my life thus-far. Death by choking on laughter nearly occurred. That is how amused I was. I am giggling at the mere memory of it.  Anna came over for a delayed Pub Therapy Sans Pub, and we had a great time being silly. Here are some quotes to illustrate:

"Milo is the son of Gelamen's sex-mayor."
*
"I am in shock, look I have a boner - I MEAN BLANKET."
*
"Ezra's voice gives me weird hand cramp..."
*
"Saving your Boo."
"If I was ghetto, I would say get off my woman."
"But we're not ghetto, we're fucking ETON."
*
"WHY WON'T IT LOAD?"
"OHHHH GOOOOOOD, I'M AAAAAAAAAAGING."
*
"Roland! You bastard! Stop putting your cock in that socket, my friend. You are in some serious trouble."

That is not half of it.

Haggis, to rhyme with 'tongue'

I went to my chum Esther's Community Haus this evening, and we had haggis. It was one of the most amusing meals of my life, from failing to serve sensible portions of 'tatties, to innumerating the possible, mostly fictional, ingredients of haggis to Esther who didn't know anything about them.

Good times, good times. Happy belated Burns Night. :)

Remember, Remember...

What a brilliant weekend.

On Friday were the annual fireworks at the Compass. For a few months beforehand the pub had a big jar on the bar for donations towards the fund, and the amount people were giving was amazing - there were more than a few notes in there - so, naturally, the display itself was excellent. Anna came along, which made it the best kind of ridiculous as we showed the village how loudly we could 'ooh' and 'ahhh' at even the tiniest little sparkles.

It was raining the sort of spit that meant you couldn't tell how wet you were until you went somewhere dry, and we faced the dilemma of trying to look into the sky, but being pelted in the eyes with water, leaving us both looking as though we had been crying ourselves into next week. (Thus lending a whole new level of literalism to the Flight of the Conchords: "I'm not crying - it's just been raining on my face...")

Afterwards, and after only one drink each, we came home because the pub was all kinds of crowded (not all of them the good kinds...) and somehow managed to go from philosophical conversation to drugless drug-style raving with improvised moves based on daily activities. We also jammed to a rousing rendition of the Joseph Megamix. I'm not sure I have ever laughed so much in my life; I headbutted a wall.

From the evening THIS plus a great number of ridiculous Facebook messages, including the Subliminal Penis Inclusion (when one attempts to penis include the word penis for male genetalia within sentences as one penis talks, with the aim of confusing the penis hell out of whoever's listening, additionally fun when typing, to draw attention to the penis best places for it to be placed.)

My favourite quote of the evening has to be: "So can you do that, just talk to me and put a little dick in?" Thanks Anna, and yes, yes I can.

***

Very few things epitomise ridiculous so perfectly as yesterday morning. There are days when one wakes up, full of the headaches of oversleeping and with all the honest intentions of ploughing out many and numerous Nobel Prize-winning essays and annotations of art work, only to have the opportunity snatched away from you on the cusp of personal fulfillment. Yesterday - Oh deplorable bastardery! - was one of those days.

Having woken up and found that I was in something resembling the 'working mood', I was promptly encumbered by the need to do admin. Most of the day was stolen by Santander's phone line and WH Smith's Customer Enquiry Services. If I ever get put on hold again, memories of yesterday will flood back to me, and the assistant will find me, when I am put through, weeping into my phone book.

Not a single sentence was written that morning, and the rest of the day was given over to watching Coupling and getting ready for the evening...

***

The evening. There was a bonfire the size of my house, a house the size of twelve of my houses, and a cabin with its own bar, a projector and a bloody sauna. But let me explain...

I met this chap Paul at the pub and, not knowing that he was practically God on the residential scale, greeted him with cheer and publy chatter while I was there. It later transpired that he had invited us out to his own bonfire party, which was held at his house - a gargantuan PALACE at the edge of the village. From personal observation, this dear chap Paul was not exactly the sort you would peg down as having a house the size of Toulouse.

So, when we arrived, I spent a few moments attempting to get my head around the luxury of the somehow Upper-Middleclasses (Experience, Anna! Closer already!) and then bumped into a couple of people that we knew, and all was fine and gosh darned dandy. Now, I had told my parents expressly that last night was for socialising, and I expected to see them both talk to at least ONE stranger at some point. (I have installed myself as something of a Relationship Manager, as per IT Crowd, for my parentfolk, who are simply some of the least socially adventurous people I have ever met. Our house is a fort, so are their social preferences.)

So, there were many schnapps and satay things and general noms, but these all came after the excitement that was the bonfire. I haven't ever been to a bonfire where there was an actual Guy - I had passed these off as a slightly violent and human-sacrificial tradition that people these days could generally not be bothered with - but there was one, and he was magnificent. His death was like something out of the Wicker Man. If he wasn't already an unconscious pile of stuffed fabric through smoke inhalation, there are no worries that the fire didn't burn him to a cinder. Often when I talk about fire, I am simply getting a little bit excited about matches and the mutant candle I ruin play with in my bedroom, but this was something else entirely. The fireworks, too, were spectacular!

Later in the evening, somebody broke out the guitar hero and singstar. First off, I cannot begin to play guitar (or even the easy level of bass) without getting very frustrated and growling as the song progresses. I can, however, sing to an alright enough standard, so I tried as much as possible to stick to that. It was great fun - the best score, I think, being 99% of Evanescence's Bring Me To Life. Oh so reminiscent, that song. My Padre did a stonking rendition of Tokyo Girl by Deep Purple, and sabotaged my (third) attempt at King Crimson's 21st Century Schizoid Man - I literally rofl'd.

They also made me sing the Barbie part of Aqua's Barbie Girl at least five times. So many times.

We stumbled our way back, quite loudly, at half two, taking revenge for all the times people have unsubtly gone home from the The Compass outside my window.

It is now twenty-to-one, and I think my parents are STILL asleep.

We are the stars' tennis balls...

Thursday saw the trip to see the Duchess of Malfi at the Royal with schulefolk. This involved a combination of new experiences, several of which I shall elaborate on, here:

The first of these was being driven by Jess. Jess being the sort of person who, now she has the ability to drive, wants to drive all the time, almost as though simply to prove she can, has been offering lifts left, right and centre over the past few months, but this was the first time I had taken her up on the offer. Luckily she was also picking Ellie up, so the hurdle of her finding her way to my house was easily jumped. Getting to the theatre itself, however, was another kettle of fish.

Now, not being a qualified driver myself, it is probably not my place to say, but I don't think I've ever been driven by someone so inclined to shouting while driving. Some drivers shout abuse from their windows, others tell their passengers to pipe down, some even shout at the radio as they drive, but Jess, Jess shouted at her car, or herself, or both. Though her driving itself was impeccable (this coming from a girl who thought she had broken the thing after stalling twice in as many minutes) the scenario itself was pretty amusing.

The second new occurrence, which made me feel (rightly) like one on the cusp of adulthood, was the opportunity of sidling up to the bar and asking, suave as you like, whether I could please order some drinks to be delivered at the interval. Sure, I didn't request champagne on ice, or a half-crate of cordon blanc, but it felt dashed professional getting a reciept and later coming out of a packed theatre to find my coke, ice and lemon-slice awaiting me. :D

The play itself was pretty darned good. Very religious, very symbolic and quite dramatic to boot! There were bits of Caravaggio painting here and there, and a little group of singers chucking madrigals left right and centre - my favourite of which was the counter-tenor (i.e. practically castrati man) who could sing higher than I've ever seen a man sing in my life. The chaps playing Bosola and Ferdinand were fairly dashing, and ridiculously tall, and the acting was superb, even if they did fluff the occasional like (*cough*Duchess*cough*)

Overall, though, beautiful - I have had Morro Lasso in my head ever since, and now have the really amusing image of Georgie dressed as the pope, as per her plan for my birthday shindig.

Let Them Eat Cake (Excessively!)

Today: the awesomest day in Awesome Land. Aware as I am that 'awesomest' is not a word (and indeed that Awesome Land is an utter fabrication and not a place at all, let alone one full of awesome things), today is a day worthy of defying such logic out of sheer excitementiasm!

For one: woke up in a smashing mood; a rare occasion, especially when the weather outside of a morning suggests a sudden-onset Ice Age. Then I was cheerfully reminded that it was Sunshine's birthday, by a bright spotty box of goodies and the prospect of much cake and merriment flooded my mind!

I was not disappointed. Cakes Galore! I cannot explain adequately the proportion of cake:people that was going on, even as I arrived. This was before Jess brought her own colossal chocolate cake with added cake-shaped-sponge which, amid the marass of cakiness, could very easily have been mistaken for further baked delights!

Highlight of the day, however, was not the cake (though I do suspect the butter-icing in the butter-fly cakes is the reason for my sustained joviality even this late in the evening) but was the present opening! I love presents, for some reason even more when they are for other people, because there is nothing more lovely than watching people getting things they like!

The most intense example of this being the revelation (aptly left till last due to bold letters declaring 'OPEN ME LAST!') of Anna's picture book. Without having a photo of it, I cannot hope to impress upon you the adorableness of said book, which even went so far as to have THREE-DIMENSIONS. The only thing that could top the thing itself was the reaction - tears abound.

For the second time in recent weeks the 'group cry' mentality could be applied. This time, however, it was nothing to do with application stress, or school-based cabin fever. Regardless of being neither giver nor receiver of said book, I was welling up in a serious way.

That takes the cake (not all of it, nobody could possibly take ALL of that) for the most touching moment of the year so far and, perhaps the most hilarious came mere moments afterwards.

If you are aware of Harry Potter, and are aware of Hogwarts School and, and are aware of the grand tradition (though apparently occurring only once for Harry's generation) of The Hogwarts School Song, you will be better able to picture what 'Happy Birthday to You' entailed. Everyone, different pitches and tunes, attempting not to die of laughter whilst singing (at great volume) Sunshine's birthday song. Literal death by laughter, right there.

The only downer was that it had to end so soon - the bell dragging us all in our separate ways to a premature (and frankly poor excuse for a) quiz, and more lessons.

Latin was a laugh (but that is nothing new and ought to be taken as standard), and I managed to get much too involved in an English essay about Carlo. I welled up, for the second time today, that's how involved we are talking about.

All in all, what with a high sugar intake and low stress levels, today was beautiful. :D