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Showing posts with label money-making schemes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label money-making schemes. Show all posts

Monday, 14 February 2011

Ye Olde V Day.

I find Valentine's day eminently amusing. Not only is it a commercial reason for people to avoid romance the rest of the year round (because how else would such a day remain special?) but it also allows me to amuse myself with various Scrooge-esque activities. An example of this is sitting listening to music very loudly and being entertained by the number of songs which fit today perfectly. For example, Eros' Entropic Tundra by Of Montreal which I have just spammed my dash with. :)

It also gives me something to complain about - being British this is an essential ingredient of my life blood, along with tea, rubbish public transport and emotional repression etc - which is excellent. For example, the fact my padre marched into my room this morning with brazen cheerfulness and announced "I am taking your mother out for a curry later. Have fun on your own." or that, as I was given 3 roses by my chum Esther, a girl gasping at the sight of them and going "She's got three roses!" as though the extra pound spent on three instead of one meant I was quietly cheating the system.

I love what a big deal people make of today, but for all the wrong reasons. I have never been a romantic person, and so taking a holiday like this ironically is probably more fun than any other approach I could take. This view culminated in a Soppy Romantic Tale of Sop which I wrote for Ellie. It was one of those stories which is so sticky and sickly that you might wish to vomit just looking at the title (soppy is not repeated for no reason!) and told the tale of how Ellie got together with Mr Collins from Pride & Prejudice as they wept over Lady Catherine's jugs. There were rose petals, hair touching, tears, gasping and lots of pretentious imagery. Or at least, there was until it was cut off in its prime by the end of lesson bell. Gutting.

So with that, I shall leave you and return to my soon-to-be-free house, where I shall be happily tucking into chocolate, television and a romantic dinner for one, cooked by my own fair hand.

To approach the end of this blog in the style of my friend Anna: what are your views on this corruption of the martyrdom of a Christian chap? How have you spent your day? Tell, tell!

And I shall leave you with some nice, fitting tunes for you to enjoy ironically. :)


Thursday, 6 January 2011

Don't judge a box by it's card-board.

Padre bought a box of books in the Woburn Auction (the auction is made up of boxes of odds and ends) for just £5. In this box, we have two copies of Mein Kampf. One of them is an original German edition from 1938. A similar one of these sold on e-bay for about £150. The other is an English edition from the following year (e-bay reckons about £50!) The rest of the books are an array of very interesting Nazi Germany related books including one by Goerring. And they're all pretty good condition, too.

My mind is blown. Am going to offer to pay Padre for the box of books (he wouldn't have bought it if I wasn't interested in such things), or steal the MK's away to fund my increasingly expensive life.

The weird, weird scenario of Hitler directly contributing to my education fees may be on the horizon.

Mind. Blown.