'Hi, I'd like a travel card pleae.'
'Sure, that'll be £7 please."
"Thanks."
"FYI, none of the tubes are currently running today, so you'll have to get our replacement bus services."
"Right. So, why didn't you tell me this before I bought a ticket?"
He looked back at me, a deadpan expression pn his face.
"Ok. Anyway, so can I have a refund?"
"All our tickets are non refundable, I'm afraid."
"OK." I was running late. "Where do I get this bus, then?"
"It's the number 226 and it's about five miles up the road. Not far. Just keep walking. Oh, and there will be queues of people by the way, so you'll probably have to wait for the next bus. They come every hour."
I sighed. This was not a good start to the day.
Our auditions for two drag queens were not gonna be good. A few people dropped out, we drank a lot of tea, found our 'Walrus' and our 'Carpenter' and decided to attempt to get home.
Once we'd had an amazing meal at a little vegan chinese restaurant, we hotfooted it Victoria Coach Station. Slight problem - Martin didn't have an up to date ticket. He'd doctored it and changed the date, but had failed to change the reg number. Sure enough, Mr J. Obsworth saw that it was the wrong code, and had clocked us. We legged it from the coach station as they had his details on file. Much easier to blag a free lift on the train. Or so we thought.
We weren't particularly cosiderate on the train - at this point we'd reached delirum and played the soundtrack to the film ad nauseum on my macbook. Don't think the other passengers appreciated that, much. When the ticket lady came down to find us, we were far too delirious to care about the money. Penalty Fare, anyone? That'll be £66 pounds please. Thanks.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
OCD
Our house has been struck down by a severe case of OCD, also known as 'Obsessive Casting Disorder.' All three of my housemates are in the middle of sorting out their minor film projects and have advertised on various websites to get struggling actors to work for them for free. You'd think that actors wouldn't want to work for students who pay them nothing and treat them like shit. But Maggie's idea apparently appealed to a lot of women, so much so that she had over 200 applicants apply for the role.
The repsonses came through the post every day. Masses of brown envelopes containing big black and white photographs and CV's, all with a covering letter:
"Dear Maggie, I'd love a chance to audition for the role of Kate/Anna/Becki. I really identified with the script."
"Dear Maggie, please consider me for the role, I've acted for the BBC/ITV/rarara" (If you're that good love, why are you still doing student films, eh?) Not that we're not grateful, or anything.
Anyway. I digress. So, every day Mags would go downstairs and find a big pile of envelopes at the bottom of the stairs. First she would scream, then she would cry.
Now the symptoms of OCD begin:
1) Taping up the letterbox
2) Repapering your walls with actor's CV's.
3) Chanting the names of actresses in your sleep
4) Having a nervous breakdown when you check your email -("what? MORE applications?There can't be MORE! I've had 500 already in the past hour!")
There's more, but I won't go on too much. She's finally decided who she wants to audtion and made a schedule. So that's the end of the disease for her, but Martin's just posted his advert and has already had about 40 responses in the past hour. This sickness is catching...
The repsonses came through the post every day. Masses of brown envelopes containing big black and white photographs and CV's, all with a covering letter:
"Dear Maggie, I'd love a chance to audition for the role of Kate/Anna/Becki. I really identified with the script."
"Dear Maggie, please consider me for the role, I've acted for the BBC/ITV/rarara" (If you're that good love, why are you still doing student films, eh?) Not that we're not grateful, or anything.
Anyway. I digress. So, every day Mags would go downstairs and find a big pile of envelopes at the bottom of the stairs. First she would scream, then she would cry.
Now the symptoms of OCD begin:
1) Taping up the letterbox
2) Repapering your walls with actor's CV's.
3) Chanting the names of actresses in your sleep
4) Having a nervous breakdown when you check your email -("what? MORE applications?There can't be MORE! I've had 500 already in the past hour!")
There's more, but I won't go on too much. She's finally decided who she wants to audtion and made a schedule. So that's the end of the disease for her, but Martin's just posted his advert and has already had about 40 responses in the past hour. This sickness is catching...
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Reasons not to leave your MySpace Account open
My housemate left her MySpace account open the other day, so we had some fun meddling with her blogs!
Dixie
"Musseltof! I'm worried about Dixie I think my mum (her name's Marie) is trying to fatten her up so she can hold a big jewish party and feed her to the guests."
The guy at the gym
"So there's this guy at the gym. He's kinda cute and has got a 'fro. He likes to talk to me. I can't tell my housemates cos they'll take the piss. The other day he walked past me and accidently stroked my thigh, I liked it though. So much a bit of wee came out."
Don't leave your account open!
Dixie
"Musseltof! I'm worried about Dixie I think my mum (her name's Marie) is trying to fatten her up so she can hold a big jewish party and feed her to the guests."
The guy at the gym
"So there's this guy at the gym. He's kinda cute and has got a 'fro. He likes to talk to me. I can't tell my housemates cos they'll take the piss. The other day he walked past me and accidently stroked my thigh, I liked it though. So much a bit of wee came out."
Don't leave your account open!
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
History Day!
I've just been informed by my father (Happy Birthday Dad!) that today I have to write about history, and how it has affected me. Well, bit of a silly question, really, because history affects us all, whether we like it or not.
I always loved history lessons at school. My teacher, Miss Rose, instilled a love of history in most of her pupils, through her enthusiastic story telling and wry sense of humour. We were always encouraged to ask 'what if?' and 'how come?' We learned about the Renaissance, both World Wars, Vietnam and the Cold War, all of which has proved incredibly useful for me today, doing a journalism degree.
However, I have discovered that whilst I may have a good general idea of world history, there is a huge amount of people at my University who have absolutely no idea about what went on in the world twenty years ago, let alone earlier in the century. I won't refer to my housemate of last year as an example, because I think she is a rather dramatic exception rather than the rule - for example, she thought that John Major was Margaret Thatcher's son. She does a politics unit as part of her degree. I rest my case.
However, last year I did a unit called 'Global Perspectives.' Basically, looking at world history and how it has affected the state of the world today. The amount of people who had no idea about the Middle East Crisis or the Cold War completely astounded me. It was like it was compeltely new information to them that the world had been at the brink of a nuclear war. What on earth were they taught at school?
I won't bang on about this too much, because I will sound too much like my dad. However, I am very grateful to both him and my high school history teacher for giving me a great historical education.
I always loved history lessons at school. My teacher, Miss Rose, instilled a love of history in most of her pupils, through her enthusiastic story telling and wry sense of humour. We were always encouraged to ask 'what if?' and 'how come?' We learned about the Renaissance, both World Wars, Vietnam and the Cold War, all of which has proved incredibly useful for me today, doing a journalism degree.
However, I have discovered that whilst I may have a good general idea of world history, there is a huge amount of people at my University who have absolutely no idea about what went on in the world twenty years ago, let alone earlier in the century. I won't refer to my housemate of last year as an example, because I think she is a rather dramatic exception rather than the rule - for example, she thought that John Major was Margaret Thatcher's son. She does a politics unit as part of her degree. I rest my case.
However, last year I did a unit called 'Global Perspectives.' Basically, looking at world history and how it has affected the state of the world today. The amount of people who had no idea about the Middle East Crisis or the Cold War completely astounded me. It was like it was compeltely new information to them that the world had been at the brink of a nuclear war. What on earth were they taught at school?
I won't bang on about this too much, because I will sound too much like my dad. However, I am very grateful to both him and my high school history teacher for giving me a great historical education.
Monday Blues
Best way to start the week - NOT with a dissertation tutorial. The word 'rising panic' springs to mind. I was on the verge on bursting into tears and running away. Why did I decide to do a degree anyway? In fact, it's not the degree that's the problem, it's all the other things that I committ to doing - editing footage from our Leggit: Mission Impossible trip, for example. That was this weekend gone, when I could have actually got other things done. I know in the grand scheme of things that it's gonna be awesome and it's worth every tedious minute, but still.
I've already eaten half a packet of choc chip cookies. I'm meant to be on diet. But stress makes me want sugar.
Feeling slightly calmer now so am going to continue with my lovely research and hope that something will come of it.
I've already eaten half a packet of choc chip cookies. I'm meant to be on diet. But stress makes me want sugar.
Feeling slightly calmer now so am going to continue with my lovely research and hope that something will come of it.
Fish Seeks Bike
I went to a night out in Bournemouth last night called 'Fish Seeks Bicycle.' It's hard to explain, but basically it's one of those very VERY alternative nights where they have random bands playing random music. For example, one of the bands was playing Irish jigs. The lead singer got naked. Bit of a shock, but once you've been to enough of these nights, nothing really shocks you anymore.
There's always a fancy dress code, and this time it was 'showdown.' Basically, dress as weirdly and wonderfully as you can, and truy outdo everyone else with your outfit. There were swashbuckling pirates, a man dressed as a carrot and a LOT of big blue afro's. I decided to do the Vogue thing and wear a black vintage drss with leggings and pull out all the stops on the dramatic black makeup and bedhead hair.
Naturally, there was the usual loved-up atmosphere that comes with those nights. Despite atrocious queues for the bar, (I blagged my way to the front every time!) nobody seemed annoyed and there was none of the aggression that usually comes with a Saturday night out in Bournemouth. No men grabbing my arse, no one spilling drinks on me, and no fights.
The tunes got better and better as the night went on. Bring on more nights like this one, and less nights where you queue for hours for a taxi, admist people being sick in the street. Fish Seeks.... everytime!
There's always a fancy dress code, and this time it was 'showdown.' Basically, dress as weirdly and wonderfully as you can, and truy outdo everyone else with your outfit. There were swashbuckling pirates, a man dressed as a carrot and a LOT of big blue afro's. I decided to do the Vogue thing and wear a black vintage drss with leggings and pull out all the stops on the dramatic black makeup and bedhead hair.
Naturally, there was the usual loved-up atmosphere that comes with those nights. Despite atrocious queues for the bar, (I blagged my way to the front every time!) nobody seemed annoyed and there was none of the aggression that usually comes with a Saturday night out in Bournemouth. No men grabbing my arse, no one spilling drinks on me, and no fights.
The tunes got better and better as the night went on. Bring on more nights like this one, and less nights where you queue for hours for a taxi, admist people being sick in the street. Fish Seeks.... everytime!
My Blog!
My dad has been telling me for some time now that I, as a trainee journalist (hate that title, by the way) should really have a blog. Thing is, I'm ridiculously busy all of the time because I tend to try and do too many things at once. Therefore I end up spending all of my time running around and never have a spare minute to do anything else. However, decided that enough is enough and I will create a blog whether I like it or not. There, Dad, Happy?
In all seriousness though, I think writing is a really important and relatively self-indulgent thing to do, and as I don't spend enough time on myself, maybe blogging is a roundabout way of doing it. So - a bit about me. I like this bit, talking about myself. I'm a third year journalism student/receptionist at a sports and arts centre/editor for Nerve* Magazine (www.nervemedia.net - download the latest version NOW)/ editor/film crew for Nerve* TV/sales assistant for Student's Union (occassionally, might I add) and I think that's all.
As you can probably tell, I don't have time for a boyfriend and all the complications that come with that, although I do spend a fair amount of time obsessing about why a particular guy doesn't want to be with me, which is ridiculous really because I don't particularly want to be with him... or maybe I do... or not. Anyway. I'm obsessing. Again. I love to write, take photos of my friends, design magazine pages, and am trying to teach myself graphic deisgn which isn't going very well so far. I enjoy going out, but only with people who don't bore me (that happens easily) and am most happy at alternative music places like Consortium, 176 and Sound Circus.
Hmmm... what else... I would say my philosophies in life are pretty general and I try to follow them most of the time: friends and family come first, don't have regrets, don't hold grudges, take life one day at a time, be open-minded but also hold fast to your morals, and don't judge. There. That was fun.
In all seriousness though, I think writing is a really important and relatively self-indulgent thing to do, and as I don't spend enough time on myself, maybe blogging is a roundabout way of doing it. So - a bit about me. I like this bit, talking about myself. I'm a third year journalism student/receptionist at a sports and arts centre/editor for Nerve* Magazine (www.nervemedia.net - download the latest version NOW)/ editor/film crew for Nerve* TV/sales assistant for Student's Union (occassionally, might I add) and I think that's all.
As you can probably tell, I don't have time for a boyfriend and all the complications that come with that, although I do spend a fair amount of time obsessing about why a particular guy doesn't want to be with me, which is ridiculous really because I don't particularly want to be with him... or maybe I do... or not. Anyway. I'm obsessing. Again. I love to write, take photos of my friends, design magazine pages, and am trying to teach myself graphic deisgn which isn't going very well so far. I enjoy going out, but only with people who don't bore me (that happens easily) and am most happy at alternative music places like Consortium, 176 and Sound Circus.
Hmmm... what else... I would say my philosophies in life are pretty general and I try to follow them most of the time: friends and family come first, don't have regrets, don't hold grudges, take life one day at a time, be open-minded but also hold fast to your morals, and don't judge. There. That was fun.
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