» Cheap Tat

I'm an artist, me...*hyuk*
It was the day of the deadline for my studio practice work to be handed in at uni (read: paintings nailed to a wall in an appealing fashion), and as usual, I had not the right tools for the job, apart from a (really good, actually) wilko's hammer and nails, and neither has anyone else... we're good like that, us art students. A quick trip to the tool shop was in order, though this was later found to be horribly expensive, so we adjourn to our favourite quality goods merchants: Poundland. based on previous good finds (though I couldn't quite bear the idea of feeding my hamster on Poundland pet food), I thought this would be a good place to get DIY tools. I found what looked like a fucking awesome laser spirit level, the kind that you stick to the wall and it projects a perectly straight line across it. Excellent, I thought. I bought it and ran back to the studio, only to find that it needed about 70 batteries for it to work. I went to Poundland again, purchased said batteries, and ran back up the hill ('ran' may be a bit flattering, try 'wheezed') to try it out. A lack of sleep due to impending deadline had somewhat befuddled my mind, and I was really excited to test this lasery wonderous item. Cram the batteries in, stick it to the wall....oh wait... the piece of sellotape that was helpfully provided to stick said spirit level to the wall was now not enough, given the added weight of the batteries. I stick loads of sticky fixers (like blue tack, only better at sticking and ruining your wall) onto it and press it on the wall, and it falls off again. Bollocks. I stick about 20 more sticky fixers on, press it firmly into the fake plasterboard wall, nearly knocking it over, turn it on, and...
The fucking 'laser' in it isn't even fixed in the right place, so even if the little bubbly bit is on straight, the red line points off in random directions. On closer inspection, its not fixed in at all, and just rattles around in the crappy plastic box.
Then it fell of the wall again.
After stamping about and swearing, I realise I've spent over an hour and about a fiver trying to get this £1 piece of crap to work, so I give up and throw it in the bin, and just get someone else to tell me if my work is wonky or not.
(Sat 5th Jan 2008, 13:16, More)

» Mobile phone disasters

*deliverance theme playing softly*
My housemate is off on a camping trip this weekend in the peak district/lake district, dunno which, not important. He was for some reason a bit nervous about going (turns out its cos he shagged a possible fellow camper's ex) and was thinking of reasons not to go, such as:
Him: What if there are bears?
Me: I doubt there are bears in the peak district.
Him: What if there are paedos and they come into my tent?
Me: You're 23, dude. Bit old for that huh?
Him: *dials a number into his phone and presses call* What if there are gay bum rapists after my arse...Hello? Er, Did you hear that? Erm...nevermind...
(Sun 2nd Aug 2009, 16:51, More)

» Guilty Pleasures, part 2

Whenever...
a mate asks me to get something for them or pass something to them, I take ridiculous pleasure in handing them something which is manifestly not what they asked for, eg. passing them a shoe when they wanted a lighter, or getting them a jar of curry powder when they wanted a cup of tea, and so on. It doesnt sound like much, but when you do this a few times in a row while giggling like a tard it just gets more and more exciting. This is usually repeated with more and more outlandish items until they go insane and get it themselves. It takes me way more time and effort but I chuckle about it for the rest of the day.
(Sun 16th Mar 2008, 3:40, More)

» Voyeurism

Well, you would.
Being on a fine art degree course, you get pretty used to seeing all sorts of crazy shit about the uni building, photos of your naked classmates, big plaster cocks, etc. and to be fair, we are actually meant to look at this stuff so its not that weird or anything. But a girl in a studio I share has a few photos of a naked buff-looking guy, most likely her boyfriend, only to protect his modesty (or so as not to offend us... unlikely) she has pinned the pics up covering up his crotchal regions... naturally we all (read: only me) lifted up the corner of a photo to have a peek at this ubermench's wang. When relating this story to my boyfriend, I went out of my way to sound a bit less like I was looking at some other dude's junk, when he said "Yeah, I looked too..."
(Wed 17th Oct 2007, 21:09, More)

» Cross Dressing

I'm a lady!
No, I really am. I look like one, I dress like one, got all the relevant ladybits/long hair/boobs, it says so on my passport, etc.

Doesn't stop me being mistaken for a man in drag.
I was walking to my mate's house in one of the more 'local' areas of my uni town (Lincoln, Sincil bank, if that helps set the scene), and two bald, thick-necked, chavvy gentlemen appeared and were walking behind me. I had on a black leather trenchcoat, a purply long skirt on underneath, very long hair loose, and big boots with big heels. I overheard them talking as it was a pretty quiet street, they were having some jolly dispute about what time it was, or where some pub was, or something. I then heard one of them say "let's ask that dude there. That's a man isn't it? That's got to be a bloke." This pissed me off, as you can imagine, so I turned around and yelled "I'm a bloody woman, you retard!" And stomped away as fast as my New Rocks could carry me (this is not very far or fast). The man seemed genuinely sorry about their mistake and so then tried to chat me up.... Well, asked for a titwank or something similarly charming. I think I really did run then.
Nice dating strategy, that, when you discover that someone you thought was a man is actually a woman, try and hit on them. "Oooh, a woman, eh?? Get in!" *rubs knees*
(Fri 16th Mar 2007, 22:48, More)