<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845</id><updated>2012-02-11T13:39:43.574Z</updated><title type='text'>帽子</title><subtitle type='html'>God damn right it's a beautiful day...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>361</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-6141336342600544942</id><published>2008-08-25T15:58:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T17:24:18.511+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading 2008</title><content type='html'>Just got back from Reading and my thoughts are as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Friday and Sunday lineup was brilliant (who needs Slipknot or Avenged sevenfold?? When I saw them play at Twickenham I thought they were shit, they sound like Busted with bigger guitars). RATM and Metallica were obviously fantastic. Vampire Weekend, Biffy, Serj Tankian, Hadouken and Feeder all get honourable mentions too. Saturday's lineup was less inspiring, the Killers are fun to sing along to if you're pissed but not overwhelming. Bloc Party I thought were pretty average, but then no surprise. Best thing on saturday was probably We Are Scientists, who were great, especially the Ace of Base cover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Food poisoning!! Lots of fun to be had on saturday night when J and I spent a good while throwing up in a ditch after eating a veggie curry. Just as well we hadn't stayed in the arena eh... complained the next day and got our money back :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) The comedy - really enjoyed seeing some really good comedians, and would definitely recommend the comedy tent to everyone (though as one of the guys said "put your hand up if you're an emo... no wait, this is the comedy tent").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Beer - carlsberg/tuborg (half the bar staff didn't know which was which), could have been a better option surely?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Camping chairs are a truly amazing invention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) If you have hiccups and you can't get rid of them after an hour and they're really starting to piss you off, go into the toilets at the campsite, guaranteed cure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Tents are fun, but only people who know how to put them up should be allowed to use them. A self supporting dome tent doesn't need its ropes out, they're just annoying to people trying to get by without tripping over .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) If your mum is coming to pick you up at 11am on monday morning, don't tell anyone as you will be laughed at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Please don't call your boyfriend at 5am outside my tent and then start crying because he accuses you of sleeping with some little emo dickhead in the next tent - you're making a tit of yourself and inducing homicidal rage in others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) Sunday night in the campsites is meant to be dreadful, but I slept through all of it (except the people singing round robins in french, the girl on the phone to her boyfriend, and the absolute twat in the tent next to us, who really came very close to getting a tent peg through his eye socket), then again I could sleep through anything. However, walking through some of the other campsites there was quite a lot of black smoke (tents) and the toilets had been set on fire. TWATS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) While I'm on a roll with the complaining, all the indie girls pissed me off. They all looked the same, with fake scruffy hair, short shorts, colourful wellies and hoodies from their private school leavers parties. I bet they all watched Babyshambles and fantasised about the look on their mum's faces if they brought Pete Doherty home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12) Oh yeah and the guy who tried to nick J's camping chair is a prick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13) Finally for the whining: wellies. Why?? They're not comfortable, they make your feet really quite vile and sweaty, and they have rubbish grip if you're trying to walk anywhere. It's not the Somme! It's a very slightly muddy field, with maybe 3 puddles between your tent and the arena. At no point does the mud come higher than your little toe, you really do only need trainers. I took wellies and wore them once, when I'd just woken up and was going to the loo, and didn't want to put my flipflops on to navigate the cesspit (campsite toilets... don't look down). However, I wasn't wearing clothes as such (I wasn't naked, that would be too much for anyone that early), and didn't even like have my hair like straightened or anything, like oh my god...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14) Definitely going next year, and not eating any food from the arena. Far better and cheaper to eat kimchi noodles, ainsley harriot cous cous, and pop tarts. Next year I'm taking more poptarts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15) I'd rather be at Reading than at work and not looking forward to tomorrow :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16) I have a crush on Serj Tankian, like I'm 15 again :) Good times!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-6141336342600544942?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/6141336342600544942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=6141336342600544942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6141336342600544942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6141336342600544942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/08/reading-2008.html' title='Reading 2008'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1428217769115469457</id><published>2008-06-18T22:48:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T22:58:46.926+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Firstly, I forgot how good the Gypsy Kings are.  Brilliant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I tidied my room and I kind of see what J was talking about when he said there were too many wine bottles in my room.  I've filled a recycling bag full of empty bottles.  I also filled a bag with old newspapers, which at least makes me an intellectual, environmentally-friendly drunk.  Now my room is just as messy as before but with bin bags everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look, here's me with a Renault F1 car:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/SFmEclAHW0I/AAAAAAAAACk/lJhvZJXnXbs/s1600-h/IMG_1085.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/SFmEclAHW0I/AAAAAAAAACk/lJhvZJXnXbs/s200/IMG_1085.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213343670161857346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1428217769115469457?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1428217769115469457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1428217769115469457' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1428217769115469457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1428217769115469457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/06/just-as-well-that-nothing-stops-party.html' title=''/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/SFmEclAHW0I/AAAAAAAAACk/lJhvZJXnXbs/s72-c/IMG_1085.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-5360022460008957082</id><published>2008-05-02T01:59:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T02:00:57.146+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mayoral elections</title><content type='html'>I can't sleep. Please don't let Boris get in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please please please, the man is joke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-5360022460008957082?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/5360022460008957082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=5360022460008957082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/5360022460008957082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/5360022460008957082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/05/mayoral-elections.html' title='Mayoral elections'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-144748751645937857</id><published>2008-05-01T23:43:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T23:50:33.716+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgia</title><content type='html'>Can you miss people you've never met?&lt;br /&gt;Can you be nostalgic for times you've never had?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I certainly think you can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like finishing books as it means it's the end.&lt;br /&gt;I listen to songs on repeat so I never have to leave the pointless lyrics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure this isn't where I was meant to be but I'm somehow here and you have to make the most of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-144748751645937857?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/144748751645937857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=144748751645937857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/144748751645937857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/144748751645937857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/05/nostalgia.html' title='Nostalgia'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-7708774933285924137</id><published>2008-04-30T20:27:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T20:37:52.730+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Running through my head running through my head</title><content type='html'>The other day someone was telling me about how they'd called the police cos there was a dog on the motorway, and I thought that was quite a cool thing to call the police about.  I said, "I've only ever called the police twice, once when I was broken into and once.... never mind".  I forget sometimes that it was a whole different life ago that my ex smashed my door down and punched me in the face, and then punched me again when I called the police.  Not really something for sharing in polite company.  I'm not sure I would be understood properly.  Though exactly what is there to understand?  I just pretend none of it ever happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually I have just remembered another police incident, when I wound up in Bethnal Green police station with a random Swedish guy, shortly before we tried to break into his house.  I have only hazy memories of this night as I'd been out at a friend brother's band's gig, but it involves a lost rucksack, inappropriateness, and me leaving him on a flat roof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I ransack my memory I can think of all sorts of trinkets and tales but most of the time I have absolutely no inclination as most of it makes me very sad.  I'm the kind of girl who picks at a scab repeatedly but sometimes there are things I should just leave alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-7708774933285924137?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/7708774933285924137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=7708774933285924137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7708774933285924137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7708774933285924137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/04/running-through-my-head-running-through.html' title='Running through my head running through my head'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4330389180316172536</id><published>2008-04-22T22:47:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T22:51:19.493+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Orchestra</title><content type='html'>I really love orchestra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T (to me) - I can never remember your name but you always look lovely.&lt;br /&gt;R (to him) - Her name's Harriet and she looks like a scruff.  Worse, a deliberate scruff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe T though as earlier he'd told everyone he thought I looked like a noonday witch.  The man is 71.  Good stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4330389180316172536?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4330389180316172536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4330389180316172536' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4330389180316172536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4330389180316172536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/04/orchestra.html' title='Orchestra'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-46557300982695761</id><published>2008-04-14T22:43:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T22:51:42.431+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Less clutter, more productive?</title><content type='html'>I am trying to de-clutter my life (of physical objects at least).  Today I made a start on the 2 crates I have of shoes.  I'm not really a girly girl, I don't do shoes in the way that lots of other girls do.  But it does amaze me that I have so many pairs of shoes when all I seem to wear are converse, completely destroyed cowboy boots or lambswool slippers.  I have managed to jettison only 3 pairs of shoes, all plimsolls, bringing my plimsoll collection down to a measly three pairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Equally, I cannot get rid of clothes.  I found a really old men's green velvet jacket, and the logical person would get rid of it, but you never know, it could become a wardrobe staple.  Let's forget the fact that I have only worn it once, when I had really bad sunburn and could only wear sack like dresses and no underwear, and this was the only thing big enough to fit over that most attractive of ensembles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can't stop sneezing because of all the dust from the damn jacket.  Next time you see me I'll be sartorially fantastic.  Or a pile of dust.  One or the other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-46557300982695761?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/46557300982695761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=46557300982695761' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/46557300982695761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/46557300982695761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/04/less-clutter-more-productive.html' title='Less clutter, more productive?'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1372924485584684554</id><published>2008-04-14T21:12:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T21:23:18.756+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing is ever lost or can be lost my science friend</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I think I know what is going on, I feel comfortably on top of things.  Not in a knowing way, just in a "yes, this is how it is and I know how it is" kind of way.  It's simple, it's straightforward, there's no drama.  But then things happen that confuse me - or rather, then people happen who do things that confuse me, whether deliberately or not (this is irrelevant as the end result is the same) - and I wonder whether I really knew anything at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's not even that big a deal to me, even though it means I was wrong about everything.  It's not my deal to be made big, it's not my decision to make.  But still, if it was my decision then I would make it very differently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so overcome with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; at the moment that I don't want to go out.  Today I wore summer shoes and stepped in a puddle and got mud all over my feet.  My french looking toes got smeared with slime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my birthday at the weekend and I must say that I'm apathetic to say the least.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1372924485584684554?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1372924485584684554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1372924485584684554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1372924485584684554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1372924485584684554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/04/nothing-is-ever-lost-or-can-be-lost-my.html' title='Nothing is ever lost or can be lost my science friend'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-524164972725812242</id><published>2008-04-07T21:23:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T21:25:02.414+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Shredded Wheat</title><content type='html'>Just to clarify, I am not in the new Shredded Wheat advert.  Everyone keeps asking me, and I haven't even seen it.  I am worried in case the person who apparently looks like me actually looks like the honey monster.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-524164972725812242?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/524164972725812242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=524164972725812242' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/524164972725812242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/524164972725812242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/04/shredded-wheat.html' title='Shredded Wheat'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8356295216595353314</id><published>2008-04-03T21:30:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T21:44:11.703+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dig!!!</title><content type='html'>Today I put on a dress and some heels and a necklace and prepared to be on my best behaviour as I was off to the scene of some past violence... but it was all cancelled, so my dress and heels were for nothing.  It's okay because it's just postponed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I left work and walked through Soho, walking in the roads and never the pavements, and wound up in Covent Garden, where I decided to get my hair cut.  And here it was amazing. My hairdresser spoke minimal english - he asked my name, I asked his name, he started cutting - and looked like everyone I knew at Full Tilt (back when I thought it was fun to go to goth electro nights and get off my face to the point I thought a man turned into a tortoise), the whole thing took 20 minutes - BUT MY GOD!!! MY HAIR!! The man is a genius! He's cut it so my cows lick actually works, made the ends not like straw, and shaved the back... and danced while he did it.  I gave him a 50% tip and vowed to myself to get my hair cut every month...&lt;br /&gt;... But then he smiled at me, and he had pierced teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you pierce teeth??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I don't mind that my life is a shambles, that I sleep in a sleeping bag and have a crush on a one-legged pirate from a book. I'm at home, nothing ever happens but relentless low level drama and nuisance.  But it's okay, I am drinking a beer and listening to Nick Cave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8356295216595353314?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8356295216595353314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8356295216595353314' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8356295216595353314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8356295216595353314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/04/dig.html' title='Dig!!!'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2351689131880776566</id><published>2008-04-02T22:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T22:02:26.243+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Wise words</title><content type='html'>A wise person recently said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Every time he taps you on the shoulder, you punch him in the face.  You are a bitch."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, another wise person once said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2351689131880776566?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2351689131880776566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2351689131880776566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2351689131880776566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2351689131880776566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/04/wise-words.html' title='Wise words'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2549886359589643033</id><published>2008-03-31T21:38:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T21:45:29.054+01:00</updated><title type='text'>What I want to see at Reading</title><content type='html'>So, the Reading line-up has been announced (or at least, they have started to announce it, there's about a million more bands to be added).  Here are the bands that I want to see:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rage Against The Machine&lt;br /&gt;Biffy Clyro (again! But why not?)&lt;br /&gt;Vampire Weekend&lt;br /&gt;MGMT&lt;br /&gt;We Are Scientists&lt;br /&gt;Metallica&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about it.  Last years line up was better I think.  Then again, I think it is realistic that I will only see 6 bands over the weekend seeing how fond I am of sleeping.  Yeah I know I'll be sleeping in a tent but seriously I can sleep anywhere and anytime except sunday nights when I have work the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm seeing Girls Aloud in May so that makes up for there not being much on the Reading line up that tickles my fancy.  Go Cheryl!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2549886359589643033?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2549886359589643033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2549886359589643033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2549886359589643033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2549886359589643033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/03/what-i-want-to-see-at-reading.html' title='What I want to see at Reading'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1527882931232754327</id><published>2008-03-25T21:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-03-25T21:54:29.754Z</updated><title type='text'>Distractions</title><content type='html'>If I'm not waking up with you,&lt;br /&gt;why bother waking up at all?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1527882931232754327?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1527882931232754327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1527882931232754327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1527882931232754327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1527882931232754327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/03/distractions.html' title='Distractions'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-7458178913004606140</id><published>2008-03-17T20:12:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-03-17T20:18:16.247Z</updated><title type='text'>Banned in Syria</title><content type='html'>So apparently this blog is banned in Syria?!?&lt;br /&gt;I wonder whether this will help:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck&lt;br /&gt;fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck&lt;br /&gt;fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hot damn I'm mature.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-7458178913004606140?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/7458178913004606140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=7458178913004606140' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7458178913004606140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7458178913004606140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/03/banned-in-syria.html' title='Banned in Syria'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8163982290010883804</id><published>2008-03-13T22:11:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-13T22:24:43.723Z</updated><title type='text'>Things that have happened in the last week</title><content type='html'>In no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I was told that I have to have another operation on my hip, this time open surgery, what fun!&lt;br /&gt;- I later realised that this was to be performed by the doctor I have previously written about, the one who called me "lovely", "attractive" etc in my medical notes. OH DEAR!&lt;br /&gt;- I have been getting increasingly excited about the start of the F1 season&lt;br /&gt;- I have fallen in love with a blond labrador from Battersea dogs home&lt;br /&gt;- I have felt sick a lot&lt;br /&gt;- I have been asked by my mum if I am pregnant (no)&lt;br /&gt;- I have become an unlikely hero for some members of my orchestra, which is quite flattering really&lt;br /&gt;- Lots of violin practice and lots of youtube videos of Heifetz!&lt;br /&gt;- I had a massive argument :(&lt;br /&gt;- I ended up in bed with my housemate :)&lt;br /&gt;- Possibly too much time spent in the Commercial...&lt;br /&gt;- Trying to read more books and be more cultured, innit (failing)&lt;br /&gt;- J has been very lovely even when we had a ninja fight in the kitchen and I was armed with a knife&lt;br /&gt;- In the last 24 hours, I have slept 18 hours and I am still tired&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure loads more has happened but I am tired and must sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8163982290010883804?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8163982290010883804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8163982290010883804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8163982290010883804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8163982290010883804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/03/things-that-have-happened-in-last-week.html' title='Things that have happened in the last week'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-5589481154855647185</id><published>2008-02-27T22:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-27T22:07:05.158Z</updated><title type='text'>Behold</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YslRJmXm46I&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YslRJmXm46I&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-5589481154855647185?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/5589481154855647185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=5589481154855647185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/5589481154855647185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/5589481154855647185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/02/behold.html' title='Behold'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2052431119706102924</id><published>2008-02-13T20:48:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-02-13T21:16:59.448Z</updated><title type='text'>Inside Out</title><content type='html'>Earlier I was ruminating about how I'm so good at keeping things in, and how even thougth some things are eating me alive, I keep oh so quiet and you cou couldn't tempt stuff out of me for shit.  In some kind of cosmic retribution, I have somehow damaged my rib cage which means I can't stand up properly without being in huge amounts of pain.  What's inside is trying to get out but it's not happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is an established fact that my body is falling apart.  A few years ago, say 2003 (just to pick a particularly dreadful vintage), I was on the less sane side of sanity, but despite the odds, I was remarkably healthy (apart from throwing up all the time and the fact I used to faint up to 20 times a day).  Nowadays I am not sure whether I am really that sane after all as surely normal girls don't cry in shops, and I am turning to dust beneath my very own eyes.  Which I suppose is similar to how I am feeling inside.  I am not sure why anyone is brought up to have dreams and ambitions because it just leads to disappointment.  This wasn't exactly my childhood dream, if I ever really had one.  My regrets far outweigh any positive thoughts I have about things I have done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really lonely as everyone is either the other side of the world or even further away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am drinking for purely medicinal purposes.  I'm still not talking about it though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2052431119706102924?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2052431119706102924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2052431119706102924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2052431119706102924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2052431119706102924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/02/inside-out.html' title='Inside Out'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2500001953615040948</id><published>2008-01-31T17:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-31T18:10:34.475Z</updated><title type='text'>The boy's a godamn genius!!</title><content type='html'>Some of the funniest things I've heard in a while:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you buy me a double espresso I'll suck your cock"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Didn't your ex boyfriend try to fuck you up the nose?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both these things were uttered by the same person within the space of about five minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would normally put this on my facebook to shame him but my mum is my facebook friend now, which makes things a little complicated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots of interesting things have happened recently but I am a) far too lazy and b) far too important (don't you reckon Syma??) to write about them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2500001953615040948?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2500001953615040948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2500001953615040948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2500001953615040948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2500001953615040948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/01/boys-godamn-genius.html' title='The boy&apos;s a godamn genius!!'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-9109302927070906945</id><published>2008-01-07T22:00:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-01-07T22:07:59.931Z</updated><title type='text'>Hopalong and fuck off.</title><content type='html'>Since I had my hip operation over three months ago, my hip has hurt every single day.  The outside of my leg feels bruised, though it clearly isn't.  The inside feels like it is pulling apart and I have to watch when I walk that I don't make any sudden movements and feel that tearing pain.  Lying down is painful.  Sleeping, even for me who loves sleeping more than anything, is sometimes not all that easy, and I could probably sleep through hiroshima.  I wish I had never had the operation, I can't tell if it's made things better or worse, though I suppose in the long term my arthritis would be a lot worse if I hadn't had it done.  Right?  Or have I just done nothing with my life and fucked up my leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't ever want to talk about this, please don't ask me about this.  I want to cry, but crying over my crippled leg is probably too self-absorbed, even for me.  Hell, some people don't have legs.  Etc.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-9109302927070906945?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/9109302927070906945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=9109302927070906945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/9109302927070906945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/9109302927070906945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/01/hopalong-and-fuck-off.html' title='Hopalong and fuck off.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4446522139068617001</id><published>2008-01-02T23:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-02T23:21:10.737Z</updated><title type='text'>Come on. Let's go drink till we can't feel feelings any more.</title><content type='html'>If I'm a child, that means you're a paedophile, and I'll be damned if I'm going to stand here and take this from a pervert.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4446522139068617001?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4446522139068617001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4446522139068617001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4446522139068617001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4446522139068617001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2008/01/come-on-lets-go-drink-till-we-cant-feel.html' title='Come on. Let&apos;s go drink till we can&apos;t feel feelings any more.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-6851215114458403911</id><published>2007-12-27T20:54:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-27T20:58:04.303Z</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes a pony gets depressed</title><content type='html'>This christmas has been all about the animals that aren't real.  My stress excema has spread right up to my shoulders.  I have developed an interest in self-destruction, and am also morbidly afraid of eating sheeps intestines again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently reading BBC news and trying to be interested in current affairs but actually I'm just wondering whether it's gin time and whether I should watch tv while drinking, cos I sure as hell can't listen to the Silver Jews alone in the spare room again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is all for now. I will write more when I cure my chronic laziness/go back to London/do something interesting/sort my head out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-6851215114458403911?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/6851215114458403911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=6851215114458403911' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6851215114458403911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6851215114458403911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/12/sometimes-pony-gets-depressed.html' title='Sometimes a pony gets depressed'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-3418727762999298146</id><published>2007-12-14T12:54:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-12-14T12:55:26.239Z</updated><title type='text'>Oh dear</title><content type='html'>I am truly vile.  I spent the christmas party crying, being sick, ignoring people and being really really REALLY needy.&lt;br /&gt;I hate myself and I never want to leave the house again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-3418727762999298146?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/3418727762999298146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=3418727762999298146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3418727762999298146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3418727762999298146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/12/oh-dear.html' title='Oh dear'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-7411246252405700517</id><published>2007-12-12T20:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-12T20:34:22.587Z</updated><title type='text'>I had a funny dream and you were wearing funny shoes</title><content type='html'>I am absolutely AWFUL at updating this, I'm so lazy.  Also on the occasions I am at home and could potentially update this, my computer decides to spaz.  I've got an anti-virus thingy (or anti-norton, as #1 calls it) now which is a bit better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I have been up to lately...  Coughing lots in what I would suspect to be tuberculosis if I didn't know for a fact it wasn't (I'm a hypochondriac. And?).  Reading lots of books, including one that turned out to be a lesbian historical novel, which gave me a bit of a surprise half way through and would have made me blush (I was reading it on the train) if I was a bit more shocked about these sorts of things.  Coughing some more.  Going to gigs.  Watching films.  Buying patent leather shoes.  Laughing at my own jokes.  Talking about papier mache kittens.  Eating breadsticks (though not really eating all that much really, which is nice).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mansions held christmas early the other weekend and got the tree, some gaudy lights for the kitchen window, big dinner, crackers, pictionary, all that.  It was all fun and no one got seriously injured (though J had to be told not to climb on a chair and ended the weekend wearing socks on his hands to stop him picking at the scabs where he'd hit his hand with the hammer).  #2's boyfriend admitted he thought that a cobra was a type of large cat.  Lots of pictures got taken, some of them absolutely awful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I forgot my actual big news - I got a merit in my Master's.  I emailed one of my old LSE lecturers to tell him and he said he was glad my interest in China had flourished, and I suddenly remembered the presentation I'd done in his class on one of the late Ming emperors, which went something along the lines of this: "He was a fucking mentalist, he surrounded himself with eunuchs and really let things go.  I think he had manic depression."  So I think we can assume I have made progress academically.  Nowadays I'd at least stick a footnote in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I start a new job in January and am looking forward to having more money.  Thinking about summer holiday already.... is South America too extravagent? (and not to the Debian conference in Argentina)  Also looking forward to leaving my current work as every time I have to speak to accounts payable, I feel like selling a part of my soul to the devil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is getting closer and I have done a minute amount of christmas shopping.  J says that he has got me a rat for christmas, and that it bites a lot and is named after me.  Other than that, J is being lovely and even let me drive his car despite the fact that I somehow forgot that you have to put the clutch down when you brake.  And I was all set for that spare McLaren seat until my brain lobotomised itself and I forgot how to drive.  Spaz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-7411246252405700517?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/7411246252405700517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=7411246252405700517' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7411246252405700517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7411246252405700517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-had-funny-dream-and-you-were-wearing.html' title='I had a funny dream and you were wearing funny shoes'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-63874501373948059</id><published>2007-11-23T23:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-23T23:04:10.680Z</updated><title type='text'>Worst Capital Connect</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I take the 8.43 thameslink service from Herne Hill to King's Cross every weekday morning. However, I don't remember a day that this train actually arrived at 8.43. For example, today it came at 8.52, yesterday at 8.53, last week it was cancelled once and late the rest of the time... Information about when the train might be arriving isn't always announced, except when it is "passenger action", and then it is announced in such a proud way, as if we should be happy that it isn't FCC's fault that the train is late yet again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The late running of the 8.43 impacts on the 8.53 and 8.59, making the journey to work hard to predict. In contrast, the Southeastern train to Blackfriars that arrives at Herne Hill at 8.57 is on time, or early, every day. Surely if Southeastern can run their trains on time (and it must be noted that their trains are also in a far better condition than the very shabby Thameslink trains) then FCC could at least attempt to as well? If it is simply not possible to get the 8.43 to arrive at Herne Hill on time, please stop advertising it as the 8.43 and wasting everyone's time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Travelling by FCC every morning is one of my least favourite things of the day. Waiting in the cold, then being packed into an overcrowded train, with arguments breaking out as not everyone can fit on thanks to the erratic timetabling (why are there 3 trains between 8.43 and 8.59 anyway? Would it not make more sense to have them spaced out at 10 minute intervals throughout the rush hour period?), rattling about on the journey, then being held up at Blackfriars because of signalling, all for an extortionate amount of money, is disgraceful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You have a policy of compensating people for severe delays to their journey but none for a systematic failure to deliver the service advertised. I begrudge giving your company a single penny as the service is so dreadful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And here was the response:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dear Miss Lamb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thank you for contacting First Capital Connect regarding your journeys between Herne Hill and Kings Cross Thameslink. Please accept my apologies for the repeated delays that you have experienced whilst traveling with us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;First Capital Connect is working hard to provide a reliable and punctual service and I am sorry that the delays caused you to arrive late at your destination on several occasions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have investigated the running of the 0843 service between the dates on 12 and 22 October 2007. I can clearly see that services were delayed, if only by 4 minutes, on every weekday during this period.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On the 15 November 2007, there was a incident on the Thameslink line that resulted in a severe delay to the 0843 service. This delay was caused by track problems in the Keymer Junction area.  Operations staff from First Capital Connect worked closely with Network Rail engineers to minimise disruption and to resolve the problems as quickly as possible. However, journeys were significantly disrupted and I apologise for the delay you suffered as a result.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Please be assured that we take all complaints of this nature very seriously and as such I have forwarded your comments to the relevant management for their attention and action.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;With regard to the timetabling of the morning services, I have outlined below the reasoning behind this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;0843 - fast service to Bedford&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;0853 - service to St Albans, calling at all station&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;0759 - fast service to Bedford&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Our train-planning department aim to provide as much flexibility as possible for our peak services but I do understand that with delays occurring on this basis, there are undoubtedly crowded conditions at the station. As such I have forwarded your comments to our Train Planning Manger for his consideration.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In view of your circumstances and as a gesture of goodwill for the delays that you have experienced, I would like to offer you £15.00 in the form of a Rail Travel Voucher. I will send these to the postal address that you have provided.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thank you again for contacting First Capital Connect and if I can be of any further help please don't hesitate to contact me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;£15 - winner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-63874501373948059?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/63874501373948059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=63874501373948059' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/63874501373948059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/63874501373948059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/11/worst-capital-connect.html' title='Worst Capital Connect'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8264095057456396609</id><published>2007-11-13T22:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-13T22:56:13.206Z</updated><title type='text'>Pandatime</title><content type='html'>Oi vey, it's been such a long time since I've updated this, and quite a lot has happened.  Last week I had a bit of weird episode.  It had been a while, and I had seen it coming really.  But it was awful.  For a time I had suspected that my grip on reality was not as good as it could have been, and I knew I was definitely mixing up my dreams with real life.  But on thursday I woke up really upset (for a long protracted reason I can't go into) and by 10am I was in tears as B had shouted at me and called me immature and pathetic (though this turned out to be a joke).  Going to the graveyard at lunchtime probably didn't help my mood.  In the evening we had a work night out - a pub quiz, only I had to be the quizmaster.  I think it really took whatever I had left in me because after that there was only so much conversation I could do before I went to the loo, looked in the mirror and thought "my god, I hate you"... I said goodbye to people and cried all the way to the station, where I then cried all the way home on the train and then cried walking back to my house.  When I got home it all seemed to cave in on me and I don't really remember exactly what happened (except of course, I do remember - it's just I don't like to, so I don't).  But then I lay in bed feeling very very scared, and very sad, and very alone.  Eventually I fell asleep listening to my mp3 player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday I tried to pretend I was okay but I felt so sick with nerves about what J would say.  In the end, J was the most lovely in the world about it.  I feel so safe and happy in his arms.  In fact, I would say that I am only about 75% of a person without him (though I will try not to think like this, as it is another 3 days until I see him - and also I sound like a bit of psycho).  It took me a while to get used to having J in my life and I didn't really know how to be, but now I feel like I can't function without him.  I just wish I wasn't such a mess, and so could be more fun/interesting/whatever I'm meant to be.  And then J wouldn't need to worry about me so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weekend was good.  On saturday J got his new car and we drove out to my parents and spent the day with them.  My dad was predictably odd and did his normal thing of pretending not to know the names of his kids.  My mum gave me a flat screen monitor for my computer, which is awesome!  I didn't realise how dreadful my old one was until now.  I wanted to throw the old one out of the window but apparently it wasn't a very sensible idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On sunday we went to a mathmetal gig, but there wasn't quite enough calculus for my liking.  One of the old guyts at the blues jam asked loads of questions about silent movies and we didn't have the heart to tell him that they're slightly before our time...  On the way home I started to feel really sick and I am a bit worried that my insides are falling out because there is something seriously wrong with my guts.  Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as my hip is fixed I am going to rejoin the gym as J tells me I have "winter warmth" and then said something that sounded like "wibble wobble" but I wasn't listening by this point.  The gym would be a good idea methinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The baby panda in Vienna zoo is called Fu Long!!  I am so excited about going to see him, it's going to be really amazing.  And Vienna will be great too - my first holiday in over 2 years (and first ever with J).  February is too far away, I want to go now!  I must try and refrain from jumping into the panda enclosure (like has happened at Beijing zoo twice in a year) to give the pandas a hug...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8264095057456396609?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8264095057456396609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8264095057456396609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8264095057456396609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8264095057456396609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/11/pandatime.html' title='Pandatime'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4000741021664510356</id><published>2007-10-25T22:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T23:51:59.796+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot spoons</title><content type='html'>My dreams are getting weirder and weirder.  I'm having bad thoughts and I wonder when it will stop and where it will end up.  This week I have been so up and down.  I just try to get through every day step by step, hoping for some calmness and just living for the end of the week and when I can finally feel warm inside and curl up next to J.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could put my finger on this mood but I am just hoping there will be an end to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4000741021664510356?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4000741021664510356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4000741021664510356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4000741021664510356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4000741021664510356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/10/hot-spoons.html' title='Hot spoons'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-6197507332170509372</id><published>2007-10-18T22:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T22:23:07.924+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Their names are never spoken</title><content type='html'>Life as a cripple is going alright.  When I got to work today I was greeted with the shout of "morning, hop-along!" and then when the fire alarm went everyone wanted to leave me on the stairs, like that scene in The Office.  Later on I tripped over one of my crutches and went flying.  In the afternoon my crutches got stolen, and B build a barricade around me so I couldn't get out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a bit tiring having everyone ask "what have you done to your leg then? what's wrong with you? you're a bit immobile, aren't you?" but I guess no one knows how insanely annoying it is until they are on crutches.  I will NEVER ask anyone any questions about their health again.  Particularly questions like, "So, I suppose you can't have sex then - you probably can't open your legs, can you?" Still, when #1 was on crutches, someone asked her if she was paralysed!!  At least I haven't been asked if I'm a paraplegic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sensing a return of the depression and I don't like it at all.  I'm having really dark, evil thoughts and it's a little bit scary.  I wish I could shake this off, or at least find a reason for it (other than the obvious few, which I don't speak about).  I want to sit in the dark and listen to music and bang my head repeatedly against a wall until I can't think any more and then see how things are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things need to change around here.  I'm taking steps (like joining the orchestra) but I need to do more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, I will be seeing real life pandas in three and half months, at Vienna zoo!!  I am very, very excited about it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-6197507332170509372?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/6197507332170509372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=6197507332170509372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6197507332170509372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6197507332170509372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/10/their-names-are-never-spoken.html' title='Their names are never spoken'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8508220819451424126</id><published>2007-10-12T11:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T11:26:09.170+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Lady Lamb</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I went to the hospital for a check up, and to get my stitches out.  The stitches coming out was quite tickly really, and then I nearly fell off the bed I was lying on, as I forgot that it had been raised to about 3 foot high.  It's quite a comedy of errors every time I go to the hospital, I tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The results of my operation are as yet unclear.  They showed me pictures of the inside of my hip (REALLY strange) and showed where I had the abnormal bone, and what it looks like now - ie gone.  I have to start doing a lot of physiotherapy before it turns into scar tissue, or else I'll have to have another operation to take that out...  Overall prognosis isn't 100% positive as they're not sure whether this will ease the pain.  Also, they have discovered I have arthritis.  My transition to old lady is nearly complete!!  All I need now is a fleet of cats and a tartan blanket to cover my knees while I do a cat-themed jigsaw puzzle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was in the plaster room chatting to one of the nurses, and my old consultant, Mr xxxx comes in.  I saw him once, in March-ish time.  Back then we had a conversation that went like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- So what do you do?&lt;br /&gt;- I'm a student.&lt;br /&gt;- What do you study?&lt;br /&gt;- Chinese. Chinese anthropology. (sheepishly, as I always feel like a twat telling chinese people this)&lt;br /&gt;- WOW!!!!!! I'm chinese!&lt;br /&gt;- (had kind of guessed this from name/looks/accent)&lt;br /&gt;- Do you go to SOAS?&lt;br /&gt;- Yeah. Masters degree.&lt;br /&gt;- Well guess what - you go to SOAS, and you probably have PSOAS tendonitis!!!  What a coincidence!&lt;br /&gt;- Ah yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he wrote a letter to my GP about how lovely I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, he tracked me down yesterday.  And remembered everything about me - and asked what they had done to me, how I was, how my summer was, how exams had gone, what I was up to know, etc... really flirty... completely random.  I pestered him for a bit with some questions about my hip and he was all like "if you have any questions, just ask me... when are you in next?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I thought I should stop asking questions cos then he'd say "get on that bed" and would prod my leg like everyone seems to do and make me rotate my legs.  I found out yesterday that while I was unconscious, the doctors were moving my legs about in the air.  This would be slightly less embaressing were it not for the fact that the nurses had forgotten to give me paper underwear, and so that I was in fact naked.  There were at least 6 people in the operating theatre, plus medical students, and they have now all seen my vagina.  How nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really bothered about having arthritis.  I'm more bothered about how I'm going to get my handwashing dry in time to go out later, given that it's zero degrees.  I'm so vacuous.  I'm also bothered about money - my parents have suggested moving back to theirs to try and save some money, as there's no way I can save a penny living in London and earning slightly less than a pittance.  I am trying to decide whether it's a good idea.  I can't live with my parents, we would all go crazy.  But I can't afford to stay here, not without a dramatic rethink anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rw9KwWpWSpI/AAAAAAAAACQ/elEg30KKn24/s1600-h/5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rw9KwWpWSpI/AAAAAAAAACQ/elEg30KKn24/s200/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120393495916726930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a picture of me in hospital.  I still have a bruise on my hand from having a tube shoved down my vein.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rw9LJWpWSqI/AAAAAAAAACY/RX_VufWyv8w/s1600-h/12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rw9LJWpWSqI/AAAAAAAAACY/RX_VufWyv8w/s200/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120393925413456546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here are my customised crutches.  I am the most stylish cripple you ever saw, yo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8508220819451424126?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8508220819451424126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8508220819451424126' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8508220819451424126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8508220819451424126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/10/old-lady-lamb.html' title='Old Lady Lamb'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rw9KwWpWSpI/AAAAAAAAACQ/elEg30KKn24/s72-c/5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1942167889558170220</id><published>2007-10-04T15:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T16:29:57.004+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Time to put the suncream away</title><content type='html'>It's funny how priorities change. A year ago I was panicking over how I would cope at uni again.  Seven months ago I was wondering whether we would actually be able to pull off the play, and would the hastily constructed viewing platform collapse before or after someone forgot a crucial line?  Five months ago I was living in the library and trying to cram as much Chinese grammar into my skull as humanly possible.  A few weeks ago I just wanted to get the dissertation done.  Now my main grievances are that I can't carry a cup of tea from one room to the other as I need both hands for my crutches, and exactly how am I going to fill my days?  At the beginning of this week I was unhappy.  B called me and I lay on the living room floor sobbing, and he didn't know what to say, as he was in the office, and I was lying crippled on a rug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In what may be a fleeting moment, I feel okay.  My leg hurts a lot.  Yesterday I left the house for the first time and saw another person on crutches, so I waved at them.  Things today seem less bleak than at the beginning of the week.  Momentarily I don't care about trivial things that should never have bothered me in the first place - like overhearing a comment directed at you that you weren't meant to hear ("she's actually quite attractive", in a disbelieving voice).  I want to read books and watch films and plan for what I'm going to do next, and write letters and email old friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today the sun has come out and I'm sure that this sudden influx of light is not unconnected to my mood.  If I'd written this twelve hours earlier I would have written something darker.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1942167889558170220?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1942167889558170220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1942167889558170220' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1942167889558170220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1942167889558170220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/10/time-to-put-suncream-away.html' title='Time to put the suncream away'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1022805187545066655</id><published>2007-10-03T19:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T19:54:00.631+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Chile</title><content type='html'>Today I watched "The Motorcycle Diaries" and cried when I saw Chile.  It's really breath taking, but so far away.  Neither Santiago or Chiloe were in the film, more's the pity.  I'm sure I've seen films featuring Chile before but none since I met M, so none where it has been so relevant.  I really want to go.  It was a good film overall, with the scenery complemented by the ever beautiful Gael Garcia Bernal.  A friend of mine once saw him outside a pub in Shoreditch and I was jealous for about a hundred years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1022805187545066655?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1022805187545066655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1022805187545066655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1022805187545066655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1022805187545066655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/10/chile.html' title='Chile'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-6846791383798254636</id><published>2007-10-02T13:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T13:41:44.714+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bullshit (aka current affairs)</title><content type='html'>I haven't written in this for ages and ages.  I guess I have been quite busy doing stuff.  I handed in my dissertation a while ago and dyed my hair that morning.  Accidentally dyed my ears too but I guess that's what happens.  Writing this chronologically is going to be a nightmare as so much has happened.  Lots of drinking, post-dissertation.   Quite a lot of crying as everyone left London.  We took M to Heathrow, which was nice as we got to spend time with her, but awful because Chile is just so very far away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On friday I had my operation.  I was meant to leave hospital the next day but I was quite ill so they made me stay in til sunday.  My mum and J both came to stay for the weekend, and between them and my housemates, I was really well looked after.  Now I am at home and everyone is gone/at work and I'm pretty miserable, to tell the truth.  In some ways it's nice to have some time to myself - check my emails, read a book, go on facebook - but I feel so lonely and depressed.  Last night I cried for ages because I thought about how mean I have been to J, how grouchy and grumpy, and how much I would miss him if he left me.  I'm feeling really sorry for myself, and I need to snap out of it.  My leg is very very sore though, and my painkillers make me throw up, so I'm not taking as many as I should.  It was quite a serious operation (my consultant told me, just before he hit my bed with his bag) and I'm not allowed to do "too much" for a while.  I have crutches but they are starting to make my hands a bit sore.  They're also very plain and not me at all - so they will be decorated :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have loads more to write but I'm not really in the mood. I'm off work for 2 more weeks though so I'm sure I will get round to it.  First I will try and shake myself out of my misery - then perhaps this will be less self-indulgent bullshit and more humourous self-mockery.  Or whatever it is that I normally write.  Bullshit most likely.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-6846791383798254636?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/6846791383798254636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=6846791383798254636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6846791383798254636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6846791383798254636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/10/bullshit-aka-current-affairs.html' title='Bullshit (aka current affairs)'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1226108812384094324</id><published>2007-09-11T23:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T23:45:27.753+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Countdown: T minus 3 days</title><content type='html'>Dissertation is due at the end of the week.&lt;br /&gt;Dissertation is in no way ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind is gone a little bit.  I can't string words together any more and I feel like crying quite a lot.  Quite randomly too.  Like walking up the road, having conversations with people.  The other day I started thinking really depressive thoughts and got in a bit of a state about it, but five minutes later I was fine.  Up and down.  Work is stressful.  I wish SS was back, I spoke to him today and realised that I miss him a lot (even if he's mean to me when he's there!).  I don't feel ready to hand in my dissertation or to finish this part of my life.  I don't want everyone to leave London.  Next week I start work five days a week, and then that will be my life.  I think I would quite like to run away from my life.  Thoughts like this are making me miserable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm okay though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other things making me miserable is my hip.  My operation is scheduled for the 28th September, although the hospital keep trying to move it forward.  Sometimes I think the pain is all in my head, and that a 23 year old with no real history of accidents (affecting the hip anyway) shouldn't have hip pain.  And on days when it doesn't really hurt, I wonder if I've made it all up.  The last few days have been really painful though, and I know something is wrong.  I don't know, I seem to court drama but when it happens then I'm unhappy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other, less miserable, news, I can type pretty fast now but it is lazy typing as I use autocorrect to put all the capitalisation in.  And it is making my wrists quite sore (yeah haha no wanking).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really looking forward to this weekend, and being rid of the dissertation.  I have reached the point where I just don't care about it anymore, I just want it to be finished.  We're all going out on friday, and J is coming to London, which I'm looking forward to immensely.  Days really drag without him.  Apparently we are "like cheese and pizza, like chalk and a chalkboard", which is a really nice description from someone I wasn't expecting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At www.zoovienna.at you can hear the sound of a baby panda squeaking!  It's amazing!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1226108812384094324?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1226108812384094324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1226108812384094324' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1226108812384094324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1226108812384094324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/09/countdown-t-minus-3-days.html' title='Countdown: T minus 3 days'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8703954059520204720</id><published>2007-09-05T12:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T13:06:19.830+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Boooo</title><content type='html'>Dissertation is due in 9 days.  I have only written 4000 words so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I am ill. I have swollen glands and a sore throat and I am feeling very sorry for myself.  I want to curl up under my duvet and watch dvd's until I feel better but instead I am staring at blank word documents and feeling miserable about the fact that my dissertation is rubbish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I am not doing my dissertation I am quite miserable as well, as now everyone is leaving and it's really sad.  On friday night I cried and poor J looked after me.  He's so lovely.  I really didn't want him to see me being all emotional and rubbish, but he was so nice to me.  But I guess it's only going to get worse because soon everyone will go and it will just be me - and by then, I will only have one leg. Boo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is quite stressful too at the moment.  I cut my arm carrying cardboard boxes and got cramp in my hands from holding down Ctrl + V.  I really am feeling sorry for myself, I do apologise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a good note, in the last two days I have received TWO parcels in the post!  Yesterday's didn't get delivered and is waiting for me at the sorting office (it's the dvd's and cd I ordered), but todays is lovely lovely (the book I left at J's at the weekend).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also,  look at what we managed to do to a tyre!!  Breaking down on the motorway is surprisingly more fun than it used to be as a kid. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rt6bNo4T6DI/AAAAAAAAACI/rambg5rYYiw/s1600-h/01092007608.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rt6bNo4T6DI/AAAAAAAAACI/rambg5rYYiw/s320/01092007608.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106689686098929714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8703954059520204720?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8703954059520204720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8703954059520204720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8703954059520204720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8703954059520204720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/09/boooo.html' title='Boooo'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rt6bNo4T6DI/AAAAAAAAACI/rambg5rYYiw/s72-c/01092007608.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-669460699614423922</id><published>2007-08-30T23:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-31T00:19:27.440+01:00</updated><title type='text'>"It's only when I'm nervous but I'm nervous more and more of the time"</title><content type='html'>What have I done since I last wrote? Well, written 2000 words on my dissertation, for a start :) Wooo. Maybe sometime before the olympics (2008? 2012?) it will be finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J came back from the Reading festival on Monday and we went to see the Mules. They were awesome, and I have now bought their album. It was lovely to see J, I get more and more excited about seeing him. This last 2 months has gone quickly, but also has seemed like forever in a really good way - like I can't imagine being without him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday it was M's birthday and we all got very drunk, and F and B did stripped, much to the shock of the (very traditional, very muslim, usbekistani) security guard, who honestly looked like he'd just walked in on an orgy and said he was going to call the state department. I hadn't seen uni people in ages and my god, everything changes! There's so much gossip. All a bit weird. I would write it all down but I'd have to write in code. And I can't be bothered right now as it's quite late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I met up with my aunt and we had a good old chat over some wine. She's so cool. My family is so strange. Particularly xxxx and what she did to the others about the xxxx. But actually, not as weird as when xxxx tried to get xxxx committed to the mental hospital so he could steal her house. Or any number of other things actually. My aunt is cool though, she is just like my mum in looks and manner, and is really lovely. I wish I saw her more, but she lives in Navan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went to the hospital where yet again they'd fucked up my appointment, but I managed to still see a registrar (rather than my consultant) and was told the following: my condition is quite rare, they don't know what caused it, the surgery is quite new, they don't know what they're going to do until they've put cameras inside my hip socket, they don't know how long I'll be off work, and that they might give me some steroids (not as good as ether but hey...). Still, I have talked them out of making me stay 2 nights in hospital. And I had an MRSA test, which consists of them sticking a really fluffy cotton bud up your nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1 and I went shopping and I bought lots of black clothes. And driving gloves. Shexy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-669460699614423922?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/669460699614423922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=669460699614423922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/669460699614423922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/669460699614423922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/08/its-only-when-im-nervous-but-im-nervous.html' title='&quot;It&apos;s only when I&apos;m nervous but I&apos;m nervous more and more of the time&quot;'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4647028721367538563</id><published>2007-08-25T23:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-26T00:18:56.661+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I have done today that isn't writing my dissertation</title><content type='html'>- Slept in&lt;br /&gt;- Been really excited about the new panda at Vienna zoo&lt;br /&gt;- Looked up flights to Vienna&lt;br /&gt;- Try to work out euro exchange rate and decide it's probably quite cheap anyway, bah maths&lt;br /&gt;- Cleaned the flat&lt;br /&gt;- Hung up all my clothes that were lying on the floor&lt;br /&gt;- Hoovered up my USB cable&lt;br /&gt;- Fished USB cable out of hoover&lt;br /&gt;- Eaten 3 pots of chocolate mousse&lt;br /&gt;- Felt a bit sick&lt;br /&gt;- Fried polenta&lt;br /&gt;- Swept the balcony&lt;br /&gt;- Pretended to know about music so I could forge a timewasting conversation&lt;br /&gt;- Written a long email to F about how much I hate hatred&lt;br /&gt;- Internet stalked everyone I know&lt;br /&gt;- Obsessively checked my phone&lt;br /&gt;- Checked my email a lot&lt;br /&gt;- Sniff permanent markers&lt;br /&gt;- Taken off my 2 month old nail varnish&lt;br /&gt;- Bleached my feet (this was unintentional)&lt;br /&gt;- Wished I hadn't cut my finger with the breadknife the other day when I was making a cheese and pickle sandwich the other morning, cos I was daydreaming about J cos y'know, once we made cheese and pickle sandwiches together&lt;br /&gt;- Read a week old newspaper&lt;br /&gt;- Looked at pictures of pandas on the internet&lt;br /&gt;- Picked at an ingrown hair on my knee&lt;br /&gt;- Wondered if I should cut my hair, decided should wash it first, wash face and then get bored&lt;br /&gt;- Listened to Borodin and Khachaturian (a lot)&lt;br /&gt;- Not watched Edward Scissorhands&lt;br /&gt;- Tied a ribbon around my head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, I have done a plan for my dissertation and it is 2088 words long. Surely I can just flesh it out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I made #1 a CD and then I laughed hysterically at what a funny girl I am, as it included the William Tell overture. Later on she tried to seranade me with some Johnny Cash but I was on the phone so I didn't hear her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5 is in a french police station, apparently - her van got broken into, and her ipod is gone (along with probably loads of camping and climbing stuff). I may or may not be a very bad person, as I did think that this would mean she probably won't be buying me booze and fags, as requested, but it wasn't my first thought, so surely that gives me kudos?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4647028721367538563?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4647028721367538563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4647028721367538563' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4647028721367538563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4647028721367538563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-have-done-today-that-isnt.html' title='Things I have done today that isn&apos;t writing my dissertation'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1512702238036645965</id><published>2007-08-22T17:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T17:39:54.103+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hopscotch and Handbags</title><content type='html'>I just wanted to share possibly the funniest article I've ever read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://books.guardian.co.uk/extracts/story/0,,2151155,00.html"&gt;http://books.guardian.co.uk/extracts/story/0,,2151155,00.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOL'd, in the truest sense of the word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other things that have made me laugh include the following email I got from a friend:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You should be grateful that your mother is so thoughtful in her gifts. An ipod breaks just after the guarantee runs out but the memory of walking around a former death camp will be there to demoralise and depress you until you hear the (only marginally more harrowing) sound of your own death rattle. You'd better practice your Auschwitz face though because they punish you for not looking thoughtful and sad enough. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S also sent me an email.  I was at work and trying not to laugh out loud, but it kind of escaped out of my nose, and the general manager said "bless you".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1512702238036645965?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1512702238036645965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1512702238036645965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1512702238036645965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1512702238036645965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/08/hopscotch-and-handbags.html' title='Hopscotch and Handbags'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1065487910022773883</id><published>2007-08-22T13:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T14:26:33.568+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I took a hammer to it all</title><content type='html'>I always think of things to write on this when I am nowhere near a computer, and then when I'm on one, I can't think of a thing.  Like my dissertation really.  Though less likely to make me fail my Masters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I woke up and I think I have groin strain, or a pulled muscle in my leg or something.  Annoyingly, it's my good leg, so I am hobbling like a hobbit, or some other hobbling thing.  I went to the doctors earlier (unrelated) and to get a blood sample, the doctor tied a rubber glove around my arm as well as the normal strap.  DIY NHS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm at uni today, doing some work on the dissertation.  What fun.  I need to get a large amount done (preferably 5000 words) by the end of this weekend.  We shall see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was book group, and we were meant to be discussing "Atonement", only I hadn't finished it, nor had many others, so we didn't talk about the book much.  We went to S&amp;M, in Islington, which very tasty.  Sometimes sausages and mash are just what you need, though being a dirty veggie, I'm limited to quorn sausages or various vegetable things.  Mash is lush as well, proper easy food.  I've recently been craving macaroni cheese, so I guess that explains my current love for surprisingly bland food (odd, considering how much chilli sauce I get through).  The only real downside of last night was that I was in a really weird mood.  When I am in that mood I shouldn't be out, I should be at home where I won't inflict my mood on others.  I couldn't speak to anyone, and was quite consumed with self-loathing.  Nice to see that my mental state is as fucked as ever I suppose.  I am quite sick of it to be honest, this constant feeling of sadness and misery and all this kind of stuff.  Plus, I know that I take it out on J, and sometimes I am so moody with him.  I feel really bad, as he is always so lovely to me.  I worry that one day he will get bored of me.  He says he won't, and I do believe him... but I am a pain in the arse, so it is still a possibility (a horrible possibility).  He makes me very happy, but it's annoying that we live so far away from each other :(  I'm sure it doesn't help, with me feeling miserable already.  One day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend was cool though.  J came to London on thursday until saturday, and then we went to Cambridge on saturday night to go to a party.  The party was funny, mainly thanks to a man called Roderick, who was eventually thrown out for putting a cigarette out on someones knee.  At one point he picked up the (not ringing, or even plugged in) house phone and started having a conversation with his invisible friend, before trying to pass it to me.  When we got home, I threw up and so most of sunday was spent in bed feeling miserable and watching Black Books and cuddling.  Went to the blues jam in the evening and saw a boy who looked like Harry Potter play a version of Gangsta's Paradise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could write this all day (quite a bit has happened really, I suppose) but I really need to do some work instead of spending all day on facebook and listening to the same two Silver Jews songs again and again and again...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1065487910022773883?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1065487910022773883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1065487910022773883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1065487910022773883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1065487910022773883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-took-hammer-to-it-all.html' title='I took a hammer to it all'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-592263209548097050</id><published>2007-08-20T22:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-20T23:58:59.727+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I can hear cats that no one else can see</title><content type='html'>I am listening to a lot of Serge Gainsbourg. It's brilliant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will write something of more interest some other time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-592263209548097050?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/592263209548097050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=592263209548097050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/592263209548097050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/592263209548097050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-can-hear-cats-that-no-one-else-can.html' title='I can hear cats that no one else can see'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8677464930062233361</id><published>2007-08-13T23:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T00:16:15.483+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm glad someone has powers of perception cos my spatial awareness is wack.</title><content type='html'>B - You really are miserable. I thought I was bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - I'm just up and down all the time and tired of it all. Tired from it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B - You need engross yourself in one mood and indulge it for a few days, and then do the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - I can't. I'm tired. I just want to be still and stable and normal. Then I can do my dissertation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B - Pah, no you won't. And you won't be "normal" anyway. You're endearingly crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B - I'll tell you what's wrong with you. You've met this fella, J, and he lives in Cambridge. And all week you miss him, and you look forward to the weekend. Then the weekend comes and you're really excited and you have an amazing time. So then you look forward to the next weekend and you miss him even more. And you end up pissing the week away because all you can think about is this other person. Am I right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - Erm, yes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B - I've done it. Twice. It's crap. And it just gets worse. The only thing you can do is move in together. Otherwise it will just get worse and worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - But I'm here, or in China, and he's there, and we can't do it for ages!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B - Well, it'll be really shit then and you'll be miserable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - Hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B - Of course, two years down the line I've turned back into a selfish cunt, so there you go. Bye Potter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is from the same guy who a few hours earlier had threatened to put me in the shredder. He's strangely perceptive sometimes, and I think if it wasn't for the whole war/guns fetish, we would agree on most things. Possibly because we are both quite mental, in the same kind of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ironically I noted all of this down in my notebook on the page that had a big 我 at the top. A better choice would have been 爱. I can't wait for J to come back from camping. I can't sleep at night because I miss him. I even do that really lame girly thing of sleeping with his tshirt. I have never felt quite like this before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8677464930062233361?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8677464930062233361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8677464930062233361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8677464930062233361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8677464930062233361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/08/im-glad-someone-has-powers-of.html' title='I&apos;m glad someone has powers of perception cos my spatial awareness is wack.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2619976948011044984</id><published>2007-08-09T23:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T00:19:05.380+01:00</updated><title type='text'>It's the return of..........</title><content type='html'>101 reasons not to use google.&lt;br /&gt;Well, 1 reason really. Never google your medical records. Gone are the days when you had to crane your neck to catch the odd word on your GP's screen, which would invariably be something like "asthma" or "tonsilitis" anyway - ergo, not that interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No no, the real interest to be had is nowadays when they have to send a copy of all correspondence to your house. And I, of course, google everything I find. I'm just so glad I didn't get this when I was at the psychiatric hospital (google "borderline personality disorder" and tell me why I didn't feel suicidal - on a related but different note, how do I tell my mum about my scars? Christ, I'm so emo and teenage). Anyway, OMG google really is a fountain of knowledge. B tells me not to assume I know anything from just the internet (as he points out, I can't exactly quit work and become a hip surgeon based on my limited knowledge), but still - was I not listening when they said they would have to dislocate my leg by putting big weights on the end and then potentially sawing my bone in half and pinning it back together? Also, that they will use a vacuum cleaner of sorts to suck out random fragments of bone? My body disgusts me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, it appears the only way I can get an appointment with my consultant before my pre-admission is by going to A&amp;amp;E. Is this a good use of my time? I don't think so. Part of me just wants to get run over and then they'd be forced to fix me. As I pointed out to B earlier, I have more chance of being run over and killed than any of the British forces have of being killed in Iraq. Still, the army sounds fucking wack, not least because I'm a flat footed half blind feminist pacifist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just grumpy today. It's a week until I see J. I feel really crap in general. Things in the flat are weird again, for reasons that are too complicated to explain. There's a mouse that lives on the balcony. I still haven't done my dissertation. I don't know whether I care any more. When people ask, I talk about my thereoretical frameworkl and that while I agree with Foucault's idea of "docile bodies" and his dismissal of cartesian dualism, I don't know how relevant it is to post-socialist China. This basically means, I have lots of ideas but I'll never have the guts to articulate them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My firefox is broken. My computer hates me. My life hates me. Yes, I'm pre-menstrual, this might be some (or all?) of the problem. I don't know. For now I am tempted to try and suffocatre myself with a pillow, when in reality I will lie in bed for a while being miserable until I fall asleep and have generally unsatisfactory dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my god I am so fucking emo, I am just glad I have blonde hair or I would be drafted into play in whatever emo bands are called, "my best friend is a razor blade" or whateverer the fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's time for bed, I've got to be CHIRPY and HAPPY and GREAT tomorrow. You know it comes so naturally. I just want to stay in bed and perfect my zenophobic impressions of aussies (one aussie in particular - what can I say, I may have watched neighbours once or twice). Get a fucking grip Potter, it's not the end of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Potter's so way not hotter than anything at all :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2619976948011044984?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2619976948011044984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2619976948011044984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2619976948011044984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2619976948011044984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/08/its-return-of.html' title='It&apos;s the return of..........'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1610696130467722252</id><published>2007-08-06T17:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T18:15:10.703+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hospitals</title><content type='html'>Hospitals ain't much fun.  I had an arthogram today, which involved mucho x-rays and injections and another MRI scan.  I saw an x-ray of my hip with a needle going into the hip socket, it looked really gross.  I started crying in the x-ray theatre because the dye they were putting in really fucking hurt.  I did get wheeled about in a bed though, which was quite fun.  I really had to fight the urge to shout "run!" and zoom along the corridor.  I now see why I wasn't allowed to help push my brother's bed when he had his operation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to wear the oh-so-attractive hospital gown again.  Though this time I wasn't allowed to wear underwear.  I won't explain how unattractive and highly embaressing this was, for a number of reasons - mainly that they only told me this when I was in the theatre and I had to try and wriggle out of my pants.  The theatre has a big glass window.  Putting on plastic pants in front of however many people is not that great an experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My leg is quite numb.  I can feel that the joint is full of something, but it doesn't hurt thanks to the numerous injections of god knows what.  Hopefully ether.  Can you still get ether?  I might request it.  A man pushed me on the bus on the way home and then looked quite guilty when I limped off down the road.  What a git.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a cup of tea now though so I'm happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1610696130467722252?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1610696130467722252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1610696130467722252' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1610696130467722252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1610696130467722252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/08/hospitals.html' title='Hospitals'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4464802447147203333</id><published>2007-08-01T09:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T10:00:38.993+01:00</updated><title type='text'>If I wrote as much on my dissertation as I do on here then I wouldn't be so far up shit creek. Oh well.</title><content type='html'>LOADS has happened since I last wrote anything!  Where to start?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Wednesday I went back to work, and moved to my new desk - how exciting.  I am far away from the rest of my team, but it does have some perks as there are more people to make me tea, woohoo!  Not that there was much tea drunk on wednesday.........  I had training, ostensibly on "accountability", but it turned into the most ridiculous thing.  In a nutshell, the woman running it said that you could choose what mood you had - to the extent that if a relative dies, you can be happy.  I said that people with depression didn't choose to be depressed and that they would quite like to be happy.  She said that it was possible to choose.  I tried to tell her that it was a scientific fact that depression was caused by chemical imbalances in the brain.  She said that in my reality that may be so, but that I shouldn't be so close minded to other realities.  Fucking evil bitch.  I got really angry.  I could feel myself going bright red.  She made some more digs at me.  I waited until the break and then I left as fast as I could - apparently I was bright red and I could feel my hands shaking.  I didn't go back to training, I don't see why I shoudl have to listen to destructive pseudo-science from the world's most unsympathetic woman.  She later came and spoke to me and said that she had realised she'd upset me but that she'd carried on anyway.  Like that makes it any better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have since googled her and her "philosophy" and there was quite a nice quote along the lines of "it is all unfounded and the general consensus is that it's bollocks".  Ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was weird being angry.  I don't really get angry very often - a bit mardy yes, but not angry.  The last time I was angry was the whole S/D/A scenario.  And then I was angry in a different way - enough to sober me up completely at 5am and shout very loudly.  Ah, good times.  This time was more a I'm-going-to-start-crying-and-not-stop kind of despairing angry.  I have since talked about it with B and we have surmised that she is a fucking bitch and should perhaps be killed.  I just never want to see her and her slightly rat-like face ever again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that was work.  Otherwise, work is fine.  I have a new position.  It's nice to be doing more varied things, and to be trusted with stuff.  I feel immensely flattered and (you know me) completely undeserving.  I had missed some people, so it was good to go back and catch up with everyone.  Except SS of course, only because he reads this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday evening was really nice, I was just pottering about (being a potta as I am), making food for the next 3 days and doing washing.  Earlier I'd been thinking about how I hadn't seen BG in ages and that I should really call him.... Then my phone rang, and it was BG!  Weird coincidence.  We argued about the merits of french philosophy over german philosophy (he's all for german - I disagree) and then I said that James Joyce was shite, which is what I say quite often, mainly because it's true.  He commented that it was the first conversation we've ever had where I've actually sounded happy.  I told him about J, and he said that he could see why I was happy.  I went back to doing the washing up and put classic fm on, which immediately began to play Saint Saens Organ Concerto - my favourite piece of music.  Good times.  Happy Potter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1 got in really pissed and I had to put her to bed and stay with her all night.  This morning she was really apologetic - she asked if she'd done anything embaressing, and I was tempted to lie and say yes, but I didn't because I'm a nice girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things with J just get better and better.  Weekends with him go so quickly, like in a very fast and very happy blur.  Last weekend we saw the Simpsons movie and he taught me how to make sushi (though rather shamefully I choked on some wasabi and spat sushi rice everywhere - so classy).  I just love spending time with him.  Even reading books in bed is amazing.  I feel so happy and so lucky to have him, he really is such a good influence on me and he doesn't seem to mind that much that I am a bit weird sometimes.  Normally I'm such a cynic about relationships and stuff, but I'm just not at all with him, I trust him completely.  I'm so content, he's such a good influence on me.  I could think (and write!!) about him all day - if my dissertation was on J, I perhaps wouldn't be quite so fucked on that front.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, did anyone else see that story in the papers yesterday about a primary school teacher who read her class the last page of the Harry Potter book on the last day of term?  There's been outrage at the school.  That's so the kind of teacher I would be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, in other news, I have news, but it's not my news to tell.... But it is very exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to the library now.  I got out of a £250 fine the other day by pretending to be stupid but I don't think it's a feasible long term plan.  Really must stop taking out 10 books at a time as I can't read that many.  Really must WRITE SOME DISSERTATION.  Or at least choose a title.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4464802447147203333?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4464802447147203333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4464802447147203333' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4464802447147203333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4464802447147203333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/07/if-i-wrote-as-much-on-my-dissertation.html' title='If I wrote as much on my dissertation as I do on here then I wouldn&apos;t be so far up shit creek. Oh well.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8151057933699345298</id><published>2007-07-24T22:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T23:50:21.825+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun and frolics by the river</title><content type='html'>This weekend I have spent a lot of time by the river (when I say weekend, I mean thursday - tuesday). I never realised how river-centric London is.  But yes, it is, and yes, I spent a lot of time in close proximity to the old Thames.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last wednesday was my brother's graduation. It was really nice to see where he's been at uni for the last three years (I am a bad sister and haven't ever visited). I felt really proud of him, he's worked hard and deserves his degree - and the place on his Masters course. He's going to have his own office, how cool is that. I don't even have my own office at my work (though I do have a jemima puddleduck toy and a cactus, so you know, I'm kind of a winner too). The whole family - well, immediate family - was there and we wandered about the campus, went to the CS department drinks, then went out for dinner. It was a really nice day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On thursday morning C arrived! I hadn't seen him since 1998. He hadn't changed, except he was more grown up (of course!) and it was nicer as we didn't fight like we used to when we were 10 (again, of course). I have known C for all my life, as our families have known each other for 3 generations. He's Parisian and a year older than me, and we used to see each other twice a year - when he would come to stay at ours, and when I would go to France. My parents went to stay with them last summer and we realised how stupid it was that C and I haven't kept in touch. So he came to stay, and it was really cool! I picked him up from Waterloo and we went back to mine and talked the hind legs of several donkeys. In the evening J arrived and we immediately went off to meet #1 at the pub... My god I was so nervous. I am such a nervous wreck sometimes. I think I usually hide it quite well, but I am a lot happier when I don't need to organise stuff (social stuff, not work type stuff - I have no problem with that) and I can just go along with whatever is happening. That sounds really lame, but I just fret too much otherwise. Especially when it's something as potentially scary as J and #1 meeting for the first time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, thursday was nice, just went to the Commercial, had dinner and then went back to the Comm. On friday we got up quite late to witness what seemed like a monsoon. I didn't think it would ever stop, but it did, so we went off into town to go to the Tate Modern and to Borough Market. On saturday we went to Soho, Chinatown etc, and then went to see the Transformers movie! It was good, but incredibly cheesy. I didn't really remember all that much about Transformers from when I was a kid, but it's not that hard to get to grips with. Afterwards we drank wine at the Ritzy Bar and J made origami birds out of tiny bits of paper. J is just too lovely. He's made me an origami panda. Sunday was spent first of all having a proper full english breakfast, and then at the Antony Gormley exhibition, then yet more wandering by the river. Antony Gormley was really good actually - I'd heard so many good things about it, and obviously seen the (quite scary) figures all over Waterloo. D had tried to explain the main exhibit (Blind Light) to me, but words can't really do it justice, as it's a bit like being in another world, like how it would be in the afterlife if your life was quite a cliched film. That doesn't do it justice either. Just go and see it. On monday J had to go home, because he hadn't taken a week off work like I had! C and I went to the Design Museum, and then met M for lunch. She's just been to Paris and ate snails, which completely defeated C's argument that french people didn't eat snails and frogs legs all the time. Today we took a boat to Greenwich, and the coolest thing happened - we had stopped at Tower Bridge, and a really old boat pulled out into the middle of the water. Our boat then followed, and as we were in the middle of the river, Tower Bridge opened, and the old boat sailed through - it was amazing! In all the time I've been in London, I've never seen it open, and then to see it from the middle of the river was just so cool. We spent the afternoon in Greenwich, the Docklands and Covent Garden, before C got the eurostar back to Paris, I came home and now I feel quite lonely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a really crap entry. I rubbed onion in my eyes. I got bleach all over my feet accidentally so the skin will probably all fall off again. I miss J. I wish I didn't have to write my dissertation, especially as I have huge library fines AGAIN. Must remember to return books. Tomorrow I have to go back to work and JOY OF JOYS I have training all day, what a welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really really happy actually, despite all of that. J is just so great, he makes me very very happy. Even when I'm sad, if that makes sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really need to go and wash my eyes. I don't want conjunctivitis AGAIN.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8151057933699345298?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8151057933699345298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8151057933699345298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8151057933699345298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8151057933699345298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/07/fun-and-frolics-by-river.html' title='Fun and frolics by the river'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1535706239197879917</id><published>2007-07-17T19:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T19:17:41.841+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Good news!</title><content type='html'>I have good news, but I'm keeping quiet for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh come on, you'd hate it if I was anything other than my normal evasive self.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1535706239197879917?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1535706239197879917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1535706239197879917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1535706239197879917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1535706239197879917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/07/good-news.html' title='Good news!'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-6218503945739671671</id><published>2007-07-16T21:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T22:40:39.308+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Suffolk</title><content type='html'>What an amazing weekend.  Really, it was the greatest weekend.  I left work at 6 and went to Cambridge where the lovely J met me at the station and we drove to Suffolk.  Even the drive was fun as I was J let me indicate.   We were staying in a house right by the coast, about five minutes drive up a track and through a forest from the nearest village.  The house itself is about 600 years old and doesn't have electricity.  There is a solar panel on the roof to run some things, and there was a generator until it broke.  This meant using candles or torches to see, which was pretty cool.  We bagged one of the double rooms, directly above the kitchen (a bad move, as it turned out) and went to have a beer.  It was probably about this point that the first mosquito bit me, but who can say for sure.  Over the weekend I was bitten approximately a million times.  I'm not exaggerating.   Here is a photo of my legs.  Imagine that all over my body.  It is itchy like fuck.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rpveh_w70mI/AAAAAAAAACA/r3Y46154tF0/s1600-h/16072007518.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rpveh_w70mI/AAAAAAAAACA/r3Y46154tF0/s320/16072007518.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087904879678837346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;On Saturday we went to the beach, which was only a five minute walk across the marshes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s a shingle beach but still very nice.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The water was freezing, so I only went in up to my knees but J was more brave/hardy/insane and went for a proper swim, barring when he dived into a mudflat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Other things included playing cricket (not me), playing golf (not me), playing Frisbee (not me), being really shit at Frisbee (me) and reading books that everyone took the piss out of (me).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the evening we had a fire.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;J built it and F hit it with a big stick and watched the sparks.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A lot.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was all really fun, the countryside is awesome. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;J and I looked at stars and a bat flew overhead.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When it gets dark it’s really dark, darker than it ever is in Pidley.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It would have all been nothing without J though.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel very happy inside (my outsides are too bitten to be happy) and I really feel so lucky to have him, he’s just so lovely. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Even if he admitted that he likes to eat giblets.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This morning I came back to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:City&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; (no thanks to the fucking trains though) and went to work, where there was considerable amounts of muppetry and probably not enough tea drunk.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was very tired and itchy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At lunchtime I licked my outer shin just to prove that I could.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Actually that reminds me – I have to have an operation on my hip. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I am having keyhole surgery.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How exciting.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;#1 is going to look after me, but I am going to try and be a good patient, but I have limited patience so it may go awry. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;When they told me about the operation (on Thursday) my initial thought was something along the lines of &lt;i style=""&gt;panic panic crap crap&lt;/i&gt; but I have since decided that it’s okay. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I’ve never had an operation but if my little brother could have his face put back together when he was 4, then I can have this operation.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I miss J already.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This evening I have spent a considerable amount of time listening to music that reminds me of him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;#1 came in and told me that I am emo.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So we sang some Johnny Cash together and it was all good, until I started boring her with more stories again, haha.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I think my computer is broken.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If either of my brothers reads this, can they come and fix it please?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think it is the fan.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And the screen is fucked, it’s flashing more than the 2012 logo.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Going to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Warwick&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; on Wednesday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;J is coming to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;London&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; on Thursday. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Good week.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Great weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-6218503945739671671?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/6218503945739671671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=6218503945739671671' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6218503945739671671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6218503945739671671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/07/suffolk.html' title='Suffolk'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rpveh_w70mI/AAAAAAAAACA/r3Y46154tF0/s72-c/16072007518.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-3920948565785788061</id><published>2007-07-13T00:55:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T01:03:14.774+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Some observations</title><content type='html'>1. Carrying a rucksack is strangely satisfying, though it's better if it's empty.  Must remember that just because the rucksack carries 25 litres worth of books, I shouldn't necessarily try and carry that many.  Is quite heavy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I'm really not squeamish.  I had no problems with taping up this guy at work's arm, even though it was quite bloodied and skank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I am perhaps more squeamish than I think, as I nearly threw up at the hospital today when they said I had to have surgery.  But only momentarily.  Also, I felt a bit guilty because everyone else in the orthopaedic surgery was old and quite crippled, and all the doctors were looking at me like "You fraud, get out! You're traipsing around with cowboy boots on when these poor bastards can hardly walk!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The plastic gloves they give you when you dye your hair are a complete waste of space and it is far easier not to use them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I am overly excited about this weekend.  Really, really, overly excited.  But in a good way.  Hence being awake at 1am ON A SCHOOL NIGHT.  Ha, I don't care, I am happy like you don't even believe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-3920948565785788061?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/3920948565785788061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=3920948565785788061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3920948565785788061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3920948565785788061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/07/some-observations.html' title='Some observations'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-7302909792098056363</id><published>2007-07-10T21:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T21:23:44.404+01:00</updated><title type='text'>About me: I am spending too much time on F1 forums and I don't think there's anything wrong with that.</title><content type='html'>Okay, it's never a good idea to write about work, but today has been a really weird day.  I was in a foul mood at work yesterday (something that did not go unnoticed by MB, who thought I looked homicidal) because I'm just not happy there, and also I was bored as everyone was away, and also I was missing J (already- I'm so sad!!).  Anyway, I need to think about my career and decide what I'm doing, and I will do that after my dissertation is done.  In the meantime, I am just going to make the most of a bad situation and enjoy spending time with some nice people, which there are in the office, thankfully - I am very lucky in that way and should stop complaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT (and you knew there would be a but) - it turns out that I am evil incarnate and a complete cunt.  Or at least that I have caused a rift in the team.  I really didn't mean to, I really didn't think I was doing anything that wrong.  But now I feel I should have stayed quiet and not voiced my opinions at all.  From now on I will be known as Subdued Stinkbat and I won't create any trouble, apart from when I next hurt my toe by getting it stuck under the filing cabinet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to write something else but it's far too protracted and boring, and perhaps too much of a misery fest even for me (I'm such an emo).  Especially as I'm not really unhappy generally, I'd say I'm quite content, just a bit pre-occupied about the dissertation.  And by J, of course, but in a completely different (and much nicer) way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I spent a while talking to my brother about gym techniques and I have realised how unfit I am.  I should really go back to the gym and stop eating ice cream - at least I didn't take a tub of Ben and Jerry's to the pub with me!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-7302909792098056363?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/7302909792098056363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=7302909792098056363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7302909792098056363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7302909792098056363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/07/about-me-i-am-spending-too-much-time-on.html' title='About me: I am spending too much time on F1 forums and I don&apos;t think there&apos;s anything wrong with that.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8133915481955856970</id><published>2007-07-09T21:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T21:20:18.042+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Booo everyone is crap and bailed on me so I'm not going to see The Mules after all.  JY is in Krygyzstan, which is at least a valid excuse, but everyone else is rubbish.  Still, they're playing again next week, so I will properly guilt trip everyone into coming this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am drinking beer from the keg.  It's a small consolation prize. Booooo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8133915481955856970?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8133915481955856970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8133915481955856970' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8133915481955856970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8133915481955856970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/07/booo-everyone-is-crap-and-bailed-on-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1332198152980058761</id><published>2007-07-09T20:17:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T20:19:25.928+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oh yeah and BOOOOOOOO I'm not going to the office summer party because it's my little brother's graduation.  Aren't I nice?  Though surely, (copious alcohol) + (a boat) = a recipe for disaster??  I don't wanna go swimming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1332198152980058761?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1332198152980058761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1332198152980058761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1332198152980058761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1332198152980058761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/07/oh-yeah-and-boooooooo-im-not-going-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-614021226049623420</id><published>2007-07-09T19:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T20:15:20.133+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got hair like a carpet, apparently</title><content type='html'>Tempting as it is to write that this weekend was shit, if only to spite J, my weekend was actuallly pretty awesome.  No, not pretty awesome.  Completely amazing.  Me and J are now officially going out.  It's on facebook and everything so it must be true!!  I am so smitten.  On Friday I was really anxious and nearly "did a Kevin" (ie throw up with nerves), and the train ride seemed like the loooooooooooooooooooooongest ever, almost as if we were going via the Shetlands or something, but it was all good.  I came back to London this morning and already I miss him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work today, however, was a pile of horseshit.  On Friday the sales manager gave me a new project to do, and made it sound like it was a reward for being so great at my job.  I don't think I have ever been so bored in my life.  The office was really quiet, which didn't help.  My team was super quiet.  I do miss the good old days, with K and mofo.  Big drama happened last week, with the quietest member of our team going all out and saying the company was crap and getting angry about being called a liar (too fucking right).  There was no drama today at all, except for an employment law training thing we all had to go on.  It seems that anything you do or say can be construed as harrassment.  Especially most of the stuff that gets said at lunchtime.  Or anything RC says any of the time.  Particularly that comment about my parents the other day.  Still, only another 3 days at work this week, as I've got wednesday off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm meant to be going out to see The Mules tonight but I have now got home and put on my really comfy jeans and eaten a bowl of spinach, rosemary and rice (don't ask, I can't be bothered to go shopping).  And there is a KEG of beer in the fridge, oh yes.  I am tempted to stay in and drink beer and do sensible things like my laundry and google imaging pictures of pandas.  Maybe I will put some socks on and I will feel more in the mood? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quote of the day comes from MB, who said that she liked the ginger/apricot bit in my hair because: "It looks good next to the rest of my hair, it looks quite natural.... if you had naturally white hair and black roots..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quote of the day does NOT come from me, as I said possibly the most inappropriate thing possible on the train home after work.  I also said "cunt" repeatedly because I'm a real charmer like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to Suffolk at the weekend.  I am so stealing #1's wellies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miaow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-614021226049623420?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/614021226049623420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=614021226049623420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/614021226049623420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/614021226049623420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/07/ive-got-hair-like-carpet-apparently.html' title='I&apos;ve got hair like a carpet, apparently'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1303868945822045327</id><published>2007-07-02T21:52:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T22:06:40.065+01:00</updated><title type='text'>mansions drama</title><content type='html'>Anyone who's been reading this for a while will know about the situation in my flat.  I love my flat, it's beautiful and on the whole, I've enjoyed every minute I've lived here, which is nearly two years now.  I live with three other girls - #1, #2 and #5.  When I first moved in there was #3, but she moved out to go and live with her boyfriend.  Then there was #4, but he was a rapist, so he had to go (and I'm not exaggerating).  Then #5 moved in, and it's taken time and effort, as we're very dissimilar, but we now get along great.  #1 is my best friend, not only in the flat but also in the world.  So you could say that I am very lucky to live with two people, #1 and #5, who are just lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that leaves #2.  There was the whole saga last year when she got a boyfriend and started speaking to us all, and then split up with him, and stopped speaking to us.  She hasn't spoken to any of us in MONTHS.  She didn't even say happy birthday to #1 the other day.  She's a very, very selfish person.  It used to bother me that she acted as if she didn't like me, but after talking to lots of people, I realised that she didn't like me, but simply because I represent a) many things about herself that she doesn't like, b) many things she is jealous of, and c) just someone she doesn't have anything in common with anyway.  I am fine with this - not everyone will like everyone else, and if it was all civil, it would be great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However.  It's not been civil lately.  When she went on holiday for a week I was actually very happy, as any conversation we have is forced to the point of absurdity.  Tonight we all got together and talked about this and she LIED.  Her body posture made it so obvious that she wants nothing to do with us, and yet she said she was happy living with us and liked us all.  I caught her out on one lie she'd told (about moving out), yet she still flat out denies lying.  I know I probably didn't do it in the best way, and yes, I swore, which I shouldn't have, but I don't understand why this situation has to continue.  I'm a reasonably easy going person (ie I keep my freakouts to myself, so I seem easy going!), I'm quite fun...  I'm not saying we have to be best friends, but it would be nice to live with someone who doesn't view me with disdain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This probably seems very trivial to anyone else, but it's my house, and these people are like my family in London.  Me, #1 and #5 share everything (to a point that is a little extreme perhaps!!), and they are the people I would turn to first for anything.  Is this wrong?  That's what you'd do with a family, and that's what they are to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a bit better now.  I was quite angry and shaken earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish it was Friday already.  I am looking forward to this weekend SO MUCH you don't believe.  Two weeks has seemed so long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1303868945822045327?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1303868945822045327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1303868945822045327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1303868945822045327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1303868945822045327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/07/mansions-drama.html' title='mansions drama'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-906077964548833579</id><published>2007-06-30T13:18:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-30T13:33:34.460+01:00</updated><title type='text'>hot chip on repeat</title><content type='html'>Firstly, CONGRATULATIONS to everyone who has just got their degrees!  I'm way proud of you all, but particularly my little brother, who is not only the recipient of a 2:1 but has a place to do his Masters in September.  It's nothing he doesn't completely deserve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secondly, I am slightly less manic than when I last updated this.  I was quite drunk and I paid the price the following day, when I felt pretty fucking ropey to say the least.  I think I articultated it as "badger face" but what I meant was that it hurt to move my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirdly, I must stop being so cryptic.  The crisis I was eluding to was that S ran away, and no one knew where she was.  Her friend, who I've never met, called me up and asked if I knew anything.  Well of course I knew nothing, which is not entirely surprising as she doesn't tell me anything.  Her facebook profile tells me she ran away to the seaside.  I don't know what to think about it all - of course I am worried about her (despite having come back and being "fine"), but as there is very little I can do, I am not sure how productive worrying is going to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mum came to visit yesterday and was going to show me pictures of my dead uncle in his open casket but just then our food arrived.  Later on, I stayed up drinking tea with her and her friend, and we talked about teenage sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish it was next weekend already.  I'm going back to Cambridge.  This week has really dragged, and hasn't been helped much by getting really upset on Thursday night and deciding that my life was a mess (along the lines of, what the hell am I going to do about a career???).  I want it to be next Friday now so I can see him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side I don't have a hangover today, although I did have to sleep on the sofa as my mum slept in my bed.  I am nice girl.  And I am still not tired of listening to the same four songs on repeat.  Get in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-906077964548833579?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/906077964548833579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=906077964548833579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/906077964548833579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/906077964548833579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/hot-chip-on-repeat.html' title='hot chip on repeat'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8111726754512540818</id><published>2007-06-28T01:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T01:42:40.944+01:00</updated><title type='text'>birhday pictionary in the pub, army major styleeee</title><content type='html'>Okay firstly, I realised my profile picture looks a fucking state. I guess that was during my hat wearing phase when I didn't know what I was doing with my hair, like the vain idiot I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secondly I'm quite drunk so I'm not typing so well. But that's FINE. I can't make my mind up whether I like double spaces or just single spaces after fullstops so what the fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirdly, I don't know, it's been quite a stressful day today. At several points I decided to quit uni. I veered between being pretty happy and then feeling really destroyed, maybe because of the dissertation, and maybe because the crisis (that I eluded to yesterday) was on my mind (but is now averted) and the fact that, christ, you know me, I'm a worrier. I think my dissertation cuts a little too close to the fucking bone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I've drunk a lot of beer and champagne and wine and my god I'm going to feel fucking excellent in the morning, especially as I have to get up early and iron #1's clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to stop swearing so much. But you know what, fuck that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8111726754512540818?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8111726754512540818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8111726754512540818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8111726754512540818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8111726754512540818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/birhday-pictionary-in-pub-army-major.html' title='birhday pictionary in the pub, army major styleeee'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-7612703578292555146</id><published>2007-06-26T23:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T00:10:17.553+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Just another tuesday night in the Hill</title><content type='html'>What a weird fucking night.  Or a weird day even.  This morning I woke up and tried to get the ex-glastonbury people out of their beds and onto trains and to work, but they were still pissed.  It was quite a challenge.  I had to brush #1's hair and get her bag ready.  Then just as I was getting in the shower the phone rang, and it was my mum, who said that my uncle died on Sunday.  He had been very ill (stomach cancer), and there was nothing else they could do.  Last time I knew he had a few months to live, but I guess it was sooner :(  I'm not sad for him, as he's not in pain anymore, but I am sad for my cousins, and for my mum.  She already lost her elder sister, and now one of her little brothers.  It must really make you reflect on your own mortality.  I'm not going to the funeral as it's in Ireland and the plane tickets are astronomical, but my mum will be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening we unpacked all the glasto stuff and washed stuff.  The tent is on the line as we speak, and the balcony is awash with a nasty muddy cowpat type water.  We recreated a bit of the old festival spirit by dancing on the balcony and singing along to Hot Chip and generally being a bit lairy.  But we had cups of tea, and then ate sundried tomatoes, so probably less glastonbury and more Big Chill (described once as people sitting in a field reading the Guardian).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner something else happened that makes me worry but I'm not going to say anything more about it at the moment, as it may be nothing (I sincerely hope it is nothing) but may be quite serious.  So I'm worrying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on, #1 and I were smoking a cigarette out of my bedroom window, when we heard some weeping.  It sounded like it was coming from out the back of our block, on the road, but we couldn't see as there is a temporary hoarding in the way.  There was definitely a voice saying "help me, please someone, help me" - but people were walking along the road and didn't stop.  We got #5, and she agreed that it was definitely a voice, wimpering and sounding very upset.  So we did what anyone else (I hope) would have done, and got the torch (to hand, thanks to glastonbury!) and went down the fire exit onto the street.  There was a girl, about 20 years old, sitting on the small wall (in front of the hoarding), crying her eyes out.  We sat down next to her and asked if she was okay, and could we help...  I'm none the wiser as to why she was so upset, other than that she had been somewhere and a man had come at her but was now gone, and she had been frightened and thrown all her stuff in the road, and that God would protect her.  #5 and I went up the road to collect all of her belongings, and tried to find out where she was going (she wouldn't tell but said God would provide) and to see if we could call someone for her.  In the end, she had calmed down a lot and thanked us, and we hopefully saw her on her way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It does make me think that the world is a strange place if a young girl can be crying in the road and no one will stop to help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I am very happy.  #1 has told me not to be so happy and to keep my feet on the ground.  Not because I am unlikeable (as I'm not - I'm very likeable, I think) but because we all know what it's like to be hurt.  But that can't stop the smile I have had almost constantly (internally or externally) for the last two days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is #1's birthday and #5 and I are cooking dinner.  Hopefully it will be a lovely birthday for her as she really deserves it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My god can you sense me feeling the love for everything at the moment?  Haha, this can't last before we see a return to the manic depressed me we all love so well.  I hope not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-7612703578292555146?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/7612703578292555146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=7612703578292555146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7612703578292555146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7612703578292555146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/just-another-tuesday-night-in-hill.html' title='Just another tuesday night in the Hill'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2623847563486627297</id><published>2007-06-24T22:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T23:01:44.586+01:00</updated><title type='text'>hi hi hi</title><content type='html'>I went to Cambridge this weekend and it was cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's got the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to go to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2623847563486627297?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2623847563486627297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2623847563486627297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2623847563486627297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2623847563486627297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/hi-hi-hi.html' title='hi hi hi'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-3952134798736879915</id><published>2007-06-20T23:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:49:40.094+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hi.&lt;br /&gt;I am way lazy when it comes to updating this nowadays.  Will try harder.&lt;br /&gt;Bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-3952134798736879915?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/3952134798736879915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=3952134798736879915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3952134798736879915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3952134798736879915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/hi.html' title=''/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-764321964546883558</id><published>2007-06-16T22:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T22:30:15.755+01:00</updated><title type='text'>shake it like an english nanny in the states</title><content type='html'>I have got conjunctivitis.  I am well pissed off, as all the things I had planned to do this weekend, I can't do.  You know, like leave the house, or read books.  I can only open one eye.  I look like a right spaz.  F was going to come and visit tomorrow but now I don't want him to because I look dreadful.  Call me vain, but seriously, no one wants to see this.  I look like I've been punched in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, the moral of the story is DON'T GO TO THE BARFLY.  This is how I got conjunctivitis last time.  But do I learn from mistakes?  No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was wicked though, had a really good time at the skanky Ice Wharf and then at this random kebab-hummous-bar place with an Iranian Elvis, and then the Barfly, and then at A's house.  I well want to move into A's house, it's proper middle class (fridge stocked with hummous and fizzy water, diabetic cat, original Pink Floyd paintings) and also A is such a cool girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go and watch a film with my one good eye now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-764321964546883558?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/764321964546883558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=764321964546883558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/764321964546883558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/764321964546883558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/shake-it-like-english-nanny-in-states.html' title='shake it like an english nanny in the states'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2770168580365484595</id><published>2007-06-14T16:55:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-14T17:17:50.941+01:00</updated><title type='text'>adventures in peroxide</title><content type='html'>I was just about to start writing and then I realised that what I was going to write was so similar to SS's blog, which I literally just read.  Pure coincidence, we're both being shafted by the NHS.  I went to hospital today and they had postponed my appointment without telling me - they say they've sent me a letter, I say it doesn't count if I haven't received it - and I nearly cried because I was so annoyed.  Not only did I miss half the day at work (ie. money) but I really want to know what's wrong with my hip.  So, I am going to do something really immoral.  I'm going private.  Though obviously still with my consultant, because he's awesome and he said I was "attractive" and "interesting" (I'm quoting my medical records here! - I love my medical records, they describe a much more exciting life than the life I really lead, in my view).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home I went to Traid where everything is currently £2!!!!  Bargain central.  I saw a really nice pair of jeans but I'm too fat at the moment.  Still, there were some really awesome dresses.  I am going to wear more dresses I think.  I don't have a particular "style", I look like I got dressed in the dark.  But I think it works on me cos I'm not exactly conventional looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was the final of The Apprentice.  We made proper party food, sandwiches with the crusts cut off, sausage rolls (homemade veggie ones of course), cheese and pineapple on sticks, and all that kind of stuff.  I love The Apprentice.  I was surprised that Simon won though, I really thought Kristina would win.  Afterwards, SB (who is staying for the week) and I watched a documentary about Britney Spears.  It was awesome.   The only thing better would have been one about Girls Aloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing very exciting has been happening.  Work is dull, and there's a strange atmosphere this week.  I'm having a nice time at home with #1 and SB and #5.  I got asked out by a man on the street today.  I was offered tickets to Chicago but it all fell through.  My uncle has been given 4 months to live, which is a quite depressing.  My step-uncle has died.  But he was ill for a long time.  I like to look on the bright side of things, which is ironic really for a diagnosed manic depressive.  I'm going to a reunion tomorrow with people I went to music college with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really bad at calling / texting / emailing - so I am aware I need to do this.  I'll get onto it.  Bone idle, me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2770168580365484595?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2770168580365484595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2770168580365484595' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2770168580365484595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2770168580365484595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/adventures-in-peroxide.html' title='adventures in peroxide'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-6740780805906935559</id><published>2007-06-10T16:04:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T17:55:03.741+01:00</updated><title type='text'>it was a murder but not a crime...</title><content type='html'>I wasn't actually meant to be going out any night this last week but I went out every night.  Oops.  On Wednesday I went to Fleet, for a barbeque at F's house.  It was lovely to be out of London, and good to hang out with my coursemates in a setting other than SOAS.  Though the more I think about it, the more I will miss people - especially M, D, F and P.  Boooooooo :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thursday I drank lots of cocktails and I'm not writing about what happened next.  Firky gave me some advice (randomly), which I will follow, though it wasn't exactly relevant either then or now.  If that makes any sense whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday, our team went out after work for a meal, where I told SS (bear in mind that he is my manager) that he had a face like a bag of smashed crabs.  It's terrible, I know, but I stole the phrase from DW (possibly the gayest man I know, who kissed me at xmas.... confusingly... clearly I am manly...) and I laughed so hard then and really wanted to use it.  Obviously I don't think SS has a face like a bag of smashed crabs, it was revenge for being called "the supreme stinkbat, stinkbat above all other stinkbats".  Anyway, good food, much wine, off to Trash Palace.  I managed to spill more drink down my front (I already had miso soup down my front from lunchtime when me and MC had lunch together and discussed wanking and icecream, to the probable disgust of everyone else in the restaurant).  The new guy at work came up to me and told me that he'd been getting very mixed signals from me, and was I a lesbian or not?  Hilarity.  I danced a lot to cheesy music, drank, and eyed up a cute girl who then left. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I eventually I left, I fell asleep on the night bus and woke up in BROMLEY.  Then I fell asleep at the bus stop waiting for the bus back into London.  A guy came up to me and asked if we were anywhere near Elephant and Castle.  I asked him if he'd fallen asleep too, and he said, panic stricken, "Oh my god, we're nowhere near Elephant, are we?"  We assured each other that neither of us were weirdos, and took a cab together back to London.  He was a very sweet, very gay, Irish nurse, and I was extremely grateful to him as he paid for the whole cab and dropped me off outside my flat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you gotta love London.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have the flat to myself.  I've been singing the Chicago and Bugsy Malone soundtracks extremely loudly, despite only having half a voice left.  I'm moving onto the Silver Jews.  I've painted my nails the exact colour of the plasters you have to use if you work in food preparation.  I dropped some on the floor.  SB is coming to stay this week and I am well excited.  Last summer she came to stay and we spent most of the time trying to find each other when drunk, and eating a lot of hummus.  Bring it on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-6740780805906935559?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/6740780805906935559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=6740780805906935559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6740780805906935559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6740780805906935559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/it-was-murder-but-not-crime.html' title='it was a murder but not a crime...'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-7750446275652565050</id><published>2007-06-05T21:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-05T21:24:48.024+01:00</updated><title type='text'>pure camp, pure excitement, pure capitalisation</title><content type='html'>I'm getting really into Ed Cox. The world needs more clowncore and less work, especially when said work is sales leads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That wasn't what I was going to write at all - something awesome has happened/is about to happen...  One of my very oldest friends who I haven't seen in what seems like a million year is going to come and stay this summer!  Our families have known each other for generations, and we spent a lot of time in our childhoods together, either at my parents house or at his parents flat in Paris or the house in the Ardeche.  There are photos of us sharing baths, which obviously I can't put up here cos it would look like kiddie porn.  But that's how far back it goes.  But seriously, how fucking exciting - I can't wait.  I haven't seen him since we were 14 and used to steal his mum's cigarettes and walk round to the other side of the mountain to smoke them (except that's a lie cos I was too chicken to smoke, and would just accompany him).  I am WELL EXCITED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday me, #1 and #5 found a tent in the cupboard and pitched it in the kitchen.  See:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RmXGGoWEFSI/AAAAAAAAAB4/UbT5-sx3i5A/s1600-h/tent.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RmXGGoWEFSI/AAAAAAAAAB4/UbT5-sx3i5A/s320/tent.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072678372514207010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We're going to go camping near the white horse thing (Oxfordshire I think).  I am EXCITED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the disability office just TEXTED me.  That's weird.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-7750446275652565050?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/7750446275652565050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=7750446275652565050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7750446275652565050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7750446275652565050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/pure-camp-pure-excitement-pure.html' title='pure camp, pure excitement, pure capitalisation'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RmXGGoWEFSI/AAAAAAAAAB4/UbT5-sx3i5A/s72-c/tent.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2618992692505745924</id><published>2007-06-03T21:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T22:11:20.073+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bridge</title><content type='html'>I went to Strawberry Fair yesterday with M and D.  It was weird to go back to Cambridge after so long away.  I kind of felt that I should know more, and instead I felt like a bit of an outsider in the city I spent so much time in.  It was nice to see friends that I hadn't seen in such an absurdly long time, but it was also strange because so many people that I used to know weren't there.  It doesn't feel like home anymore, while still being so familiar.  I'm glad I left, but at the same time I feel like I left a part of me behind.  Gone are the days when I could walk down the street in Cambridge and see people I knew at every corner, and I do miss that.  It's an insular kind of place, and it would drive me mad to live there... and yet....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent a lot of the day with H, who I hadn't seen in about a year and a half.  I've known him since we played the violin together at various music things, when we were about 13 or thereabouts, although we didn't keep in touch all that time, and only became friends again when I was 17 (Cambridge is small - you see the same people again and again).  He's such a lovely guy, and it was so cool to hang out properly yesterday.  We're going to set up a business selling armpit wigs, in honour of our friend W, who dyed his armpit hair on the train once.  I do miss Cambridge.  I need to make more of an effort to keep in touch with H, because a gap of 18 months is a little excessive, especially for someone so nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had proper airport security at Cambridge station, with knife checks and sniffer dogs.  It was quite strange, though good I guess - I imagine a lot of people got caught with drugs.  Sniffer dogs always weird me out cos they look all friendly and then they ignore you (so long as you have nothing on you).  However, as this guy I used to know found out, if you run over and start petting them, then they'll lick you and be all normal, and the police will haul you off and search you.  Then find nothing and have to make an apology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday I didn't wear a dress.  Or I did, but it wasn't really a dress, it was a skirt worn as a dress.  I met C and we drank wine in the park before buying some gin to drink at the club, on the sly like.  I had a really good time, talked to lots of people, had an argument with B (he said I was addicted to cutting myself, I said no, then I said yes, then we made up and had some shots), talked politics with O (he said I was actually quite clever, but I think we all know the subtext - I know more than he'd expect from a white girl, although by this point I was quite drunk so I have no idea what I said... how white is that), didn't dance...  I like the people in drama society, and I'm jealous of everyone who'll be there next year.  I wish I'd done my MA part-time so I could have more time at SOAS, and also so I wasn't so strapped for cash.  Can't change it now I guess, though retrospectively it was a crazy idea to do it full-time while working this much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still feel very let down and pissed off about what I was told the other day, but I am not going to let it show.  I'm also going to make more of an effort all round.  Though not today, because today I feel really miserable, and I stayed in bed most of the day.  I think it would probably do me good to talk to someone but I don't know who I should talk to, because everyone has their own problems, and only a limited time to deal with everything in.  So I think I just won't, I'll just read more Sebastian Faulks and stay in my room a lot until something happens to change this status quo.  Much as I dislike being an observer/passenger in my own life, I have come to dislike any actions I take, so for now, I'm taking a passive role.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd really like a hug, thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2618992692505745924?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2618992692505745924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2618992692505745924' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2618992692505745924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2618992692505745924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/bridge.html' title='The Bridge'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8999271076548970461</id><published>2007-06-01T16:25:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T16:35:15.141+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you kidding, he looks 18 and he's wearing jazz shoes!</title><content type='html'>It's been ages since I updated this.  I'd like to say that it's because I've been having a really awesome time doing all sorts of things, but in reality I've not.  I've just been lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night we went to GAY and I didn't pull, though RF licked my face and touched my breasts.  Bless him, he has no idea about women (he paid me a high compliment when he said he thought of me almost like a man) and had to ask where the nipple would be.  In some ways that's quite sweet but I do worry that it's not completely obvious....  Didn't we learn that stuff in biology?  Though clearly what I remember from biology is very different from what men remember (for further proof see: oral sex).  Anyway, good semi-clean fun and an amusing night out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the hospital and my consultant was away so I saw the registrar, but he said my scans are inconclusive (to him at least, but he's not a specialist) although it does seem I have some sort of growth on my bone.  We had an argument about whether they should give me steroid injections in my bum, then I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have various other things to write but a) I can't becuase I'm about to go out, and b) I can't because it would get me in trouble with people (because of who I want to write about, and what I would write).  For once this doesn't mean I've been secretly shagging people I shouldn't, it just means that I can't write about how let down and disappointed I feel in full without getting myself in trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.  I need to stop ignoring my phone and emails. But first I need a bath/bottle of wine.  I'm going to a party and I'm going to wear a dress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8999271076548970461?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8999271076548970461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8999271076548970461' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8999271076548970461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8999271076548970461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/06/are-you-kidding-he-looks-18-and-hes.html' title='Are you kidding, he looks 18 and he&apos;s wearing jazz shoes!'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2866913646318058925</id><published>2007-05-28T01:13:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T01:16:52.227+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Why staying in is the new going out:</title><content type='html'>Staying in means drinking lots of tea.  This is a good thing.  I have drunk so much tea that I think I might pop.  This is probably not such a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously the story is far more complicated than that but now is not the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I am going to take down all the post it notes all over my bedroom because they're just making me feel guilty.  There's nothing worse than being reminded of vocab that you didn't use in your exam, trust me on this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, there's plenty worse but again, now is not the time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2866913646318058925?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2866913646318058925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2866913646318058925' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2866913646318058925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2866913646318058925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/why-staying-in-is-new-going-out.html' title='Why staying in is the new going out:'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-3127550669385953144</id><published>2007-05-27T15:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T15:45:27.291+01:00</updated><title type='text'>three blind mice....</title><content type='html'>Today I have a lot of plans.  I'm going to make some food with actual vitamins in it, REAL VEGETABLES shock horror.  I need to stave off the scurvy.  Obviously I'll have to go to the shops to do this, and that will involve getting dressed, so I'll do it a bit later.  All I've done so far is watch the Grand Prix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor #1 is really unhappy at the moment so I'm going to find ways of cheering her up.  I don't really know any ways though.  If I hadn't already given her all my music, I would make her a CD, but that would be kind of pointless.  I feel quite impotent because there's nothing that I can do to help, but I'll give it a go anyway, even if it is just by her laughing at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a couple of very strange msn conversations yesterday.  It's such an ambiguous medium, which doesn't bode well when talking to people whose lives revolve around ambiguity.  We should go back to the good old days of typewriters and messenger pigeons.  Last week, when I was in the library still, me and M were talking about how different things must have been back then, and how noisy the computer room must have been.  I don't expect to ever hear from him again, which is a bit weird.  But you know when you just sense that someone won't get in touch again because your purpose with them has been completed and fulfilled... that's how it is, I reckon.  If he does get in touch, then that's great, but I hold out about as much hope for that as I do for some of my more unreliable friends ever sorting themselves out and being there more than just when they feel like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was glad in the end that I went out yesterday because it was really cool.  Legend's friends are lovely, and it was cool to see him again.  I fell asleep on the night bus though and woke up god knows where.  I haven't done that in AGES.  Tonight I'm going to an 80's party with SS, and I'm going to wear legwarmers, though I sincerely doubt he will...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to make some food....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-3127550669385953144?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/3127550669385953144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=3127550669385953144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3127550669385953144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3127550669385953144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/three-blind-mice.html' title='three blind mice....'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-5075510898818826390</id><published>2007-05-26T20:22:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-26T20:24:27.120+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't feel like going out but I don't feel like staying in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-5075510898818826390?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/5075510898818826390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=5075510898818826390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/5075510898818826390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/5075510898818826390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-dont-feel-like-going-out-but-i-dont.html' title=''/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2929251549699647197</id><published>2007-05-26T16:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-26T17:07:59.718+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Wash your own windows you fuckers</title><content type='html'>So.  I've finished my exams.  Which means I've kind of finished university (again) but this time it's more serious because I don't have the option of coming back and studying some more (excluding PhD, which I think I am far too young to think about).  So now I have to think about THE FUTURE and MY LIFE and MY CAREER.  All of which I don't want to think about.  In fact, all I want to do is wander around in my pyjama's and cry, which is what I've mainly been doing today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel completely despondent and depleted and lonely.  I'm doing my whole "I'm fine" thing but really, I am pretty fucking depressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also pissed off with a few people, but now is not the time or the place.  I think I'm pissed off with life generally, and the way that a couple of people have been acting - things that have/haven't been said, things that have/haven't been done - are, if not upsetting or puzzling, then at least downright rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuckit I'm ill again and there's no escaping it.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2929251549699647197?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2929251549699647197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2929251549699647197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2929251549699647197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2929251549699647197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/wash-your-own-windows-you-fuckers.html' title='Wash your own windows you fuckers'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-9011756588744863767</id><published>2007-05-21T11:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-21T11:54:32.016+01:00</updated><title type='text'>More tea, more painkillers...</title><content type='html'>Everytime I try and write anything in this, something happens that means I can't.  Today, I get on the computer - quickly quickly though eh - and just check BBC news, and OMG ZOMG WTF the Cutty Sark is on fire???  Man, that's part of my childhood :(  Gutted doesn't even begin to explain it.  Me and the ship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday I went out for lunch/dinner with SS and his fiance and about 8 others.  It was really cool, we went to a Brazilian restuarant in Angel.  I ate so much I actually thought I might pop, I felt really uncomfortable!!  But it was lots of fun, it's wicked to get on well with my boss, even though he has now started calling me a hellish toad (I quite like that, it's Harry Potter-esque, no? and therefore part of my namesake...).  In fact, the only downside was when the waiter put a chicken on my plate!!  On top of my salad!!  I thought I might cry, and I couldn't really say anything apart from "meeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhh" or something similar.  After dinner we went to The Green, which I'd been to before, but despite the sign outside saying that it was "london's premier middle class gay bar", I hadn't actually noticed that it was a gay bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I stayed at the library til 4am and the incrimination (so to speak) continued, which was a very welcome revision break!  Especially as during the course of the day I had managed to convince myself that I had tetanus (#1 says you can't get it from a rusty safety pin, but I thought that's how you got it?? And my finger hurts where it (ahem) "pricked" me, far more than you'd expect it to), and then convinced myself that my textbook was actually speaking to me, what with it's talk of bad students, alcoholism and domestic violence.  Seriously, this textbook ain't for kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my last exam and I have realised that it's hard to do revision/exams when you live far away and you still have to fit everything in and you're pretty much by yourself.  For every one of my undergrad exams I had my ex to help me with stuff.  Except when we were fighting, which was most of the time.  But he did do sweet things, like he knew I'd be hungry so he packed some of the dhal (it was the 2-week dahl) in tin foil so it would stay hot and biked over to give it to me.  That may of course have been the day I threw a chair at him, but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I am going to miss SOAS so much.  I will miss this routine I have now - go to school, study in the library, chain smoke, maybe go to Tesco, smoke some more, drink ill-advised beer, take pro plus, study manically, and then chain smoke some more.  Plus of course, last night's addition of handjobs in the 4th floor toilets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I am going to get WASTED.  Come join.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-9011756588744863767?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/9011756588744863767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=9011756588744863767' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/9011756588744863767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/9011756588744863767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/more-tea-more-painkillers.html' title='More tea, more painkillers...'/><author><name>pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13961456571722381938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4503875135829777788</id><published>2007-05-20T12:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T12:58:23.849+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is best summed up in a Silver Jews song</title><content type='html'>I don't really have time to write much anymore, what with revision and generally living la vida library, but let me just say that I am very happy, and if I were to write more it would be very incriminating.  Even though nothing has happened, to speak of.  Ummm this is quite elusive, but I don't think it helps that I can barely speak english anymore.  Plus, there's no need to incriminate myself at this point.  I know what's going on, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, it's the final countdown with my exams, and I can't stop thinking about the most ridiculous things.  F said the other day that we should make an alternative yearbook with the funniest quotes of the year.  Inclusions so far are the comment about "he's going to be Gary Glitter in 40 years" and possibly the most ill-advised thing I ever said about my anthropology lecturer's parents sex life (ie "it's like picking your nose with gloves on". WHY?!?!?).  Suggestions on a postcard please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, after exams I'm going to be more of a human being and I might give my housemate back her duvet.  In the meantime, the library beckons....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4503875135829777788?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4503875135829777788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4503875135829777788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4503875135829777788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4503875135829777788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/life-is-best-summed-up-in-silver-jews.html' title='Life is best summed up in a Silver Jews song'/><author><name>pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13961456571722381938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-6793630782140942525</id><published>2007-05-15T13:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T14:22:22.723+01:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a very small (Lib Dem) World</title><content type='html'>Forgot to say - I'm going to whinge less and sing more.&lt;br /&gt;I reckon things will seem better after exams.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully my body will hurt less and I'll be able to sleep properly.&lt;br /&gt;"fuck chineseness", as the article goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other words, I always really hated those people who whinged all the time, so I'm going to shut the fuck up.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my hair is too cool for me to be miserable, and I'm starting to get a bit of a crush on this guy.  That makes me sound like a 14 year old American girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Small world, seriously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-6793630782140942525?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/6793630782140942525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=6793630782140942525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6793630782140942525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6793630782140942525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/forgot-to-say-im-going-to-whinge-less.html' title='It&apos;s a very small (Lib Dem) World'/><author><name>pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13961456571722381938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8280885218814260118</id><published>2007-05-15T12:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T12:56:41.447+01:00</updated><title type='text'>umbrella ella ella eh eh eh</title><content type='html'>When I fail my exams I am going to blame all the shitty music I've been listening to.  You know how sometimes you hear a song and a YEAR later, you're still listening to it.  Well, cast your mind back a year to this party I went to just after I was really ill, when I couldn't drink or eat cheese or any of the things I love so much...  It was a party at some girl's house, I knew her through my then-boyfriend, who unbeknownst to me was planning not to be my boyfriend anymore but would be too scared to look me in the eye.  The party was full of people I didn't really know and I talked to the Greeks, about when I'd come to their house and watched Eurovision and pissed off their Greek relatives by cheering Cyprus.  Anyway, we were all sitting under a tree and eating strawberries and generally being very civilised, when it was decided that we should toast the marshmallows on the barbeque.  I gave the job to N, my then-boyfriends then-housemate, and he put the marshmallow on top of a sausage.  I tried to eat it, but I had to spit it out in a hedge, what with it being kinda meat-infused.  Cue mockery.  N tried it and he didn't make it to the hedge and nearly spat it on people's shoes.  He threw an apple at me, I threw one back, he threw one harder - I have a scar on my face.  it was all fun and games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on, N's girlfriend played me this song (Nelly Furtado: Maneater) and I dunno, but it's not really losing any of its appeal.  Which may be why I was singing it on the nightbus last night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8280885218814260118?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8280885218814260118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8280885218814260118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8280885218814260118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8280885218814260118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/umbrella-ella-ella-eh-eh-eh.html' title='umbrella ella ella eh eh eh'/><author><name>pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13961456571722381938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-5477336158162862439</id><published>2007-05-13T22:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T22:30:58.851+01:00</updated><title type='text'>"I'm more of a gobbler"</title><content type='html'>It's been such a stressful weekend, what with the argument (which is all fine now) and us being potentially evicted.  We made the mother of all spreadsheets and wrote the most awesome letter, so hopefully now we won't be homeless.  I'm just so stressed - I want to cry whenever I look at my Chinese books because this stupid fucking grammar is too much for me.  I need to try and think about a "career".  Being served an eviction notice hasn't helped, and being in a perpetual state of having not enough money to sort things out is starting to get to me.  Nothing changes but nothing stays the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a dream the other day that they had to chop my leg off, and now I'm scared to go and see my consultant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I admitted to this guy I know that I used to have a big crush on my sociology teacher, and it turns out that she's his teacher.  I'm such a loser. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The facebook stalking has reached dizzy new heights, though it's not just me it seems...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't write coherent sentences anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, J is going to give me and #1 £50 if we strip off and snog for the Daily Sport.  I'm all for it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-5477336158162862439?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/5477336158162862439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=5477336158162862439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/5477336158162862439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/5477336158162862439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/im-more-of-gobbler.html' title='&quot;I&apos;m more of a gobbler&quot;'/><author><name>pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13961456571722381938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-574411354027073984</id><published>2007-05-12T12:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-12T13:02:45.766+01:00</updated><title type='text'>oi tea oi vey</title><content type='html'>It was kind of meltdown central here yesterday.  #1 and I had an argument, the first argument we've ever ever had.  I knew it was coming and I still acted like a twat.  I knew when we were in the pub, and I knew for sure when she walked out of the room after calling me naive (on my views on policing, rather than anything else).  But, we had an argument.  And it was horrible and weird.  I have promised not to carry on doing all the things that I was doing, ie not telling her what's really going on.  Thing is, I knew she would be upset when I told her - which is why I didn't for so long.  Then when I did, it was so late into it all that it was so much worse.  And of course she was upset, who fucking wouldn't be upset when someone tells you THAT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to stop talking about my feelings only when I'm drunk, or for comedy effect.  I remember once P said you should make a joke out of adversity, but there comes a point when the people around you are sick of hearing the same old jokes, and would like to know how I really feel.  I need to stop running away from problems, and I really need to stop overusing the phrase "I'm fine".  It's scary, because I've compartmentalised everything for so long, and have tried to pretend that everything is and always has been fine.  I need to get a grip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a lot of things I need to change.  My god, I'm 23 and I act like I'm 14.  I have so many people I need to apologise to, and things I need to sort out.  I wish the exams were over, as until they are, it's the perfect excuse to not change things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a loser sometimes/all the time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-574411354027073984?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/574411354027073984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=574411354027073984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/574411354027073984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/574411354027073984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/oi-tea-oi-vey.html' title='oi tea oi vey'/><author><name>pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13961456571722381938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-1160180043847531467</id><published>2007-05-07T13:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T13:46:18.486+01:00</updated><title type='text'>QOTD</title><content type='html'>Quote of the day yesterday comes from my mother:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Men are single minded.  All they're after is titties, bums and legs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-1160180043847531467?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/1160180043847531467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=1160180043847531467' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1160180043847531467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/1160180043847531467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/qotd.html' title='QOTD'/><author><name>pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13961456571722381938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-7614438874166538439</id><published>2007-05-05T16:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-05T17:52:51.726+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Discretion is my middle name</title><content type='html'>It's been pointed out that I'm very indiscrete.  In fact, that I have a mouth like the channel tunnel.  I don't think that's ENTIRELY accurate.  I'd say I'm probably more lacking indescretion at work, which is perhaps a little bit foolish as surely that's where I should be more, I dunno, professional?  It's nothing bad, mind, it's not like I've told any secrets or anything - yesterday was someone's birthday, and when it's a birthday, there's cake, a card and presents.  So it's not like it's a SURPRISE or anything.  Anyway, I found out about the birthday and bounded over to K to tell him, just as the birthday boy was walking past - though not exactly THAT near...  Later on, the birthday boy looked on someone elses computer so see what time we'd bring the cake (again, not my fault, right?), and so he knew what to look for and when - if you know that, it's not hard to tell that I'm sticking candles in a cake and whatnot.  So that was one incident.  The other incident, where I admit I was completely indiscrete, was when I was jumping about and acting like a child with K, and said - really loudly - "where's SV?? I hope he hasn't gone yet!!!"... and OF COURSE he was right in front of me.  Ack, it's not like I command any respect there anyway.  In some ways that's a good thing - there are a couple of people there that I would not want respect from.  But it does make me think, hmm, I'm 23 now, wouldn't it be nice if I wasn't treated like I was 15?  Because being treated like a kid makes me act like a kid, and then it's a vicious cycle.  And yes, I had a waterfight.  And what??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the library after work, cos I'm THAT cool, and stayed until about 2am.  I got quite a lot of work done, though I was really pissed off because people were properly talking.  I've never seen that in a library before.  The acoustics there mean that it's fucking noisy anyway.  I guess people made noise in the LSE library, but cos it was such a huge space, it didn't seem noisy.  These stupid fucking girls, yesterday, chatting away.  The only plus side was that they were speaking Urdu, of which I understand very little, so it didn't distract me as much as it might have done.  I still told them to shut up though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I was in the lift talking to M about my hip, which has gotten really painful again.  He asked when I was going to get my MRI results, and I said I didn't really want them until after exams because it was just another level of stress, just in case it was something bad - and if it's not that bad, then there's no real reason to know now.  We were discussing how I had such a (and I quote) "spacker leg".  Then I realised there was a man in a WHEELCHAIR behind me and I felt really bad.  Oops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My moods are all over the place at the moment.  #1 is trying to pressure me into admitting there's something wrong but - seriously - I'm fine.  Well, I'm not.  I'm all over the place.  But I don't see what talking about it will do.  Funny how the only people who want to talk to me about it are the people I want to just pretend I'm fine, and the people who pretend I'm fine are the ones I want to talk to.  It's probably an easy dichotomy to make, because the end result is the same - I don't talk about it - and I would justify it some other way if things were different.  Anyway, yeah, I'm FINE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I am going to do after exams:&lt;br /&gt;1. Get hideously drunk&lt;br /&gt;2. Join the gym again&lt;br /&gt;3. Try not to get tendonitis again&lt;br /&gt;4. When I am fitter, I'm going to invite myself along to the gym with SV and T, where I will no doubt try and beat them on the rowing machine and get tendonitis again&lt;br /&gt;5. Go canoeing?? I haven't kayaked since I was about 15&lt;br /&gt;6. Go camping&lt;br /&gt;7. Visit my brother&lt;br /&gt;8. Do a hell of a lot of karaoke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just accidentally bleached my feet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-7614438874166538439?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/7614438874166538439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=7614438874166538439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7614438874166538439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7614438874166538439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/discretion-is-my-middle-name.html' title='Discretion is my middle name'/><author><name>pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13961456571722381938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-894862935368612556</id><published>2007-05-03T21:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T22:06:40.573+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I can haz icecream thanks?</title><content type='html'>You know, if he wasn't such a dickhead at times, he'd be so great.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to explain that further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I finally handed in my essay.  Woohoo!!  Though I realised I did something stupid.  On the submission form, I put the deadline as 23th April, when it was the 24th.  And we lose 2% a day, so I just managed to lose myself 2%.  Spaz.  I had my last ever class at SOAS.  It was quite a high note as it was with Song Laoshi.  After the class, I went to have a word with him with A, and we told him that we thought he was great.  Haha, how lame...  Nevermind.  I sat on the grass and chatted to A about politics for ages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on I dropped by the bar and we drew a picture of O.  It was AWESOME.  He's quite a cartoon character anyway, so he's an easy target.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, I'm feeling the SOAS nostalgia.  Even though I haven't seen many of my friends in ages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is alright as well, even though SS is away.  Poor SS, I hope he's okay.  I almost miss being called a loser, though I'm still being set up with a one legged diabetic prisoner, so that's some consolation.  Tomorrow, me and SV are going to try and eat a whole loaf of bread and then I will try and touch his leg again. hehehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is aiiiiiiiiiiight.  I'm doing some washing and I might even take my duvet to the dry cleaners at the weekend.  I think I'm just sleep deprived.  It's not so bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-894862935368612556?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/894862935368612556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=894862935368612556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/894862935368612556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/894862935368612556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-can-haz-icecream-thanks.html' title='I can haz icecream thanks?'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8299439405282832235</id><published>2007-05-02T19:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-02T19:52:25.512+01:00</updated><title type='text'>What kind of a university...</title><content type='html'>What kind of a university sends out an email like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I regret to have to inform you that there have been a number of incidents during 24 hour opening of the library that has caused a great deal of concern.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Students are reminded that sleeping in the library, and the consumption of food and drink is not allowed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not like the old days, I'm telling you.  I remember eating a curry in the library (with pasta, cos we'd run out of rice and had neither the time nor money to buy anymore) and then going to sleep in my sleeping bag under a table.  I have come to the conclusion that although SOAS seems (and is in many, many ways) more relaxed than LSE, LSE is much more sleep-friendly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;University generally has turned into an unmitigated disaster.  I'm looking at re-takes.  My Chinese teacher is looking at me crying in his office.  It's not looking great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8299439405282832235?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8299439405282832235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8299439405282832235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8299439405282832235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8299439405282832235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/05/what-kind-of-university.html' title='What kind of a university...'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8694070901865554150</id><published>2007-04-28T13:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-28T13:32:08.079+01:00</updated><title type='text'>NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO</title><content type='html'>Oh god.&lt;br /&gt;I must try and fight the urge to throw up everytime I find out something bad.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, the WORST thing has happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure I'll calm down in a while, but for now I'm just in shock because I never EVER thought this would happen, and also I'd kinda counted on it NEVER happening, and now it has.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaargh and it's eclipsed all my good news, boooo :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must. Do. More. Essay. And. Less. Of. The. Panic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8694070901865554150?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8694070901865554150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8694070901865554150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8694070901865554150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8694070901865554150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.html' title='NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-451649696178286947</id><published>2007-04-28T12:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-28T12:24:01.917+01:00</updated><title type='text'>貌合神离</title><content type='html'>Currently I am thinking about dropping out of uni.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though apparently I will have to find £57 to pay a library fine before I do that.  How did I get a £57 fine?  It's all this one stupid little book, which doesn't even have 57 fucking pages.  And of course, I haven't read it, bar the introduction, which I thought was interesting but inherently occidentalist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to have to stop using long words and quasi-constructs if I'm going to quit uni.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling disheartened with everything at the moment really.  I went to SOAS after work and it was all weird.  I don't belong there at all.  Everyone was standing around playing pool, or watching people play pool.  I have no interest in that - I used to do that when I was 17, and we'd skive off classes and go to WT's and drink lager.  Maybe it's a rite of passage you have to go through, and in the UK you just go through it earlier, by necessity.  I don't know.  I find the attitude all wrong, as the boys - and it's always the boys who are playing - have some low-level sexism going on.  It's very patronising, not to mention boring.  Plus, some of the people who were playing were people who I tend to try and have as little to do with as possible.  So it irked a little that I was spending time with them.  There was something else that was weird too - a very strange dynamic that I couldn't quite place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After work something else odd happened as well, involving me and a girl who has been trying her best to demonstrate to me just how little she likes me.  Yesterday she really took the piss, and she needs to take herself, her attitude and her over-inflated sense of self and fuck right off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to try and write things now.  Tonight #1 and I are going out for dinner, and then to the cinema.  It's going to be awesome :)  But I need to make sure I've been productive between now and then, so I can really enjoy myself tonight.  I haven't been to the cinema in AGES, so I'm very excited - and there's no one I'd rather go with than #1.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-451649696178286947?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/451649696178286947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=451649696178286947' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/451649696178286947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/451649696178286947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/blog-post.html' title='貌合神离'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4543068082186776035</id><published>2007-04-26T22:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T22:15:22.394+01:00</updated><title type='text'>1 to the 2 to the 3 to the 4, limehouse police knocking at my door</title><content type='html'>I'm facing facts about my essay/degree - it's kinda fucked.  But that's okay, I'm going to the disabilities office on Monday and I will tell Z everything that has happened, and it will all be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is, and I know this sounds ridiculous, I know I have profound thoughts about things, and I know that my views aren't stupid.  I just can't face putting them onto paper.  I don't want to commit.  I've always been like that, not making that final effort in case it goes wrong, or deliberately sabotaging things when they're going a bit too well for me to be comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a loser - I have commitment issues with my ESSAYS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4543068082186776035?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4543068082186776035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4543068082186776035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4543068082186776035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4543068082186776035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/1-to-2-to-3-to-4-limehouse-police.html' title='1 to the 2 to the 3 to the 4, limehouse police knocking at my door'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2318676034234601854</id><published>2007-04-24T23:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T23:30:58.812+01:00</updated><title type='text'>nostalgeeeeeaaaaaaah</title><content type='html'>I was just thinking about how much I miss Lul.  I haven't seen her in soooooooo long, since I guess when she woke me up at 5am to say bye, in Norway.  I still owe her a pair of jeans, though they're the ones I have to wear under a dress cos they keep falling down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once Lul was convinced that the Chemical Brothers had subliminal messages in their songs.  This is why I love Lul.  And that she taped up the holes on her Silk Cuts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2318676034234601854?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2318676034234601854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2318676034234601854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2318676034234601854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2318676034234601854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/nostalgeeeeeaaaaaaah.html' title='nostalgeeeeeaaaaaaah'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4740829486422152611</id><published>2007-04-24T21:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T22:18:51.401+01:00</updated><title type='text'>veto veto veto YOU</title><content type='html'>I am veto-ing this essay.  I have written nothing, I have the inclination to write even less.  I missed my appointment with my supervisor today, which is really crap because a) I kind of need to see him about my dissertation of doom, and b) I have a really illadvised crush on him.  Okay, yeah yeah, you shouldn't fancy your teachers, but he's really lovely and we agree on loads of anthropological things and I just kind of trust him...  However he thinks I'm an odd girl, cos I was so tongue tied for half of our last meeting, and then I decided to tell him that I'm bulimic.  Why did I think he'd want to hear that?  I figure SOAS is much cooler than LSE, the teachers are so much more chilled.  Needless to say, I didn't fancy any of my LSE teachers (even though Alan Sked spent 3 years trying to have a threesome with me and my ex), except maybe my historiography teacher, but then, only a little, because his hobby was making figurines of battles.  Seriously, I googled him and he has a whole website about it.  Legend.  Come on, everyone has to fancy their teacher at some point.  It's the whole power thing - it must be, or why else did everyone fancy that fucking bitch of a woman (the one who said "one day, I'm sure you'll find something you're good at" JUST BEFORE MY FINALS)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In summary, screw the essay.  Veto it (that's only really funny if you're in my politics class).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was a really, really nice girl.  I went to Kings Hospital for someone else and pretended it was for me.  Although that could raise slight moral problems, as my "nice" act involved lying to the NHS, I wouldn't consider it in any way immoral.  It's the tip of the iceberg of what I would do for that girl.  Sometimes I wonder if anyone would do the same for me - which I know is a really terrible and selfish thing to think - because I would seriously do anything for the people I care about, and yet - I don't know - and yet I'm sat here by myself trying to convince myself not to do all the things that I do (the bad things).  I'm going to fail my exams.  I didn't do my essay today because I got up really early to go to the hospital, and then have been too tired and anxious all day.  I think I try to justify my existence by doing good deeds, which is a fairly good indicator of how little I think of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was feeling pretty chirpy, what with seeing everyone and all that.  I do really like everyone at SOAS, and it's such an awesome feeling to get to school and have people say "I've missed you so much, let me kiss you!" and stuff like that.  Loads of the people who couldn't come to my birthday were around, which was lovely.  I went for a pint with D, who was calling me a filthy heterosexual.  I wish I'd made more time for him this year, he's a very very interesting guy and one day we will be the hottest academics in the whole country :)  And then I'll exploit the power relations in the opposite direction and snare me some 18 years olds.  Then of course THE INCIDENTS last night were pretty hilarious.  I tenuously made up with G, though I didn't believe a word he said.  Come on, the boy's a compulsive liar.  So I lied and said that I'd got given a car for my birthday, but I wouldn't drive over to see him cos I didn't like his house or his face.  I can't believe earlier in this post I was talking about how I was a nice girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't help feeling like I'm being abandoned.  When SOAS is over, everyone will leave for all over the world and I am worried that no one will keep in touch, with me at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I ever do is complain eh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4740829486422152611?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4740829486422152611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4740829486422152611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4740829486422152611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4740829486422152611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/veto-veto-veto-you.html' title='veto veto veto YOU'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-5889827370668062741</id><published>2007-04-23T22:55:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T22:57:21.331+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I'd rather be in the pub.</title><content type='html'>An hour later, #1 came into my room to look for condoms.  Then just now #2 came to get some.  Two observations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I should maybe set up my own pharmacy at this rate&lt;br /&gt;2) They are quite literally shagging me out of house and home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boris Yeltsin has died, but to be honest I was always more of a Gorbachev girl anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-5889827370668062741?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/5889827370668062741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=5889827370668062741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/5889827370668062741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/5889827370668062741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/id-rather-be-in-pub.html' title='I&apos;d rather be in the pub.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-3549607443478796432</id><published>2007-04-22T17:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T17:48:54.331+01:00</updated><title type='text'>hammerzeit</title><content type='html'>Last night was my birthday curry and drinks - it was really, really fun!  I was so chuffed so many people came out, and everyone seemed to have fun.  On the way there I had a minor panic attack and couldn't stop shaking because I was so worried.  I don't understand myself.  #1 was trying to calm me down, but I wanted to cancel the whole thing.  I'm glad I didn't though, cos it was all cool.  There were no fights (quite surprising given that a lot of my friends hadn't met each other and I'd probably bitched about them all to each other - kidding) and amazingly, we all fitted in the "VIP room" of the restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm a bit of a twat on my birthday.  This is a fact.  I get it into my head that everybody should love me.  I guess it wasn't helped by A repeatedly telling me how hot I was.  The good news is that I seem to be getting to be less of a twat as I get older.  Anyone remembering my birthday last year will recall that I burst into tears, spilt wine over myself and threw up. Niiiiiice.  So yeah, big improvement this year.  I also felt much more comfortable because I knew that everyone was there because they liked me, not because they had been invited by my exboyfriend, in a kind of mutual mental masturbatory session (I don't mean that to sound harsh - it's the truth).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, it wasn't just my birthday - it was SB's as well.  I'm so glad that now we get to spend lots of time together.  It's odd how she was literally the first person I spoke to when we started sixth form, and we're still friends.  I was really annoyed that I forgot her present.  It's fucking awesome, in a totally childish way (despite the fact that we're "hurtling ever nearer to thirty").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm quite impressed that I have waited til this late in this entry to say what I will say next (see how grownup and mature I am?). Now I don't really know what to write.  I kissed a boy who makes my insides feel like jelly.  It's at once a great feeling, and a disconcerting one - I don't like feeling like I'm not in control, but all I want to do is kiss him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also...  it's probably fairly obvious to anyone reading this that I self harm.  Or at least, that I used to self harm and that I started again about three months ago.  Last night was the first time ANYONE has seen me naked since then, and thus seen the 'evidence'.  Come on, during the play why do you think I got changed over near the guys (it was dark and no one could see).  Why do you think, when I was ill, I wouldn't let anyone in the room (I was wearing shorts and was too ill to get up and put on trousers).  I know I'm a mess, it's a fucking joke that at the age of 23 I still believe that this is in any way a good thing to do.  I feel absolutely fucking AWFUL that K had to see that last night.  I feel sick to my stomach.  I promise you that this is it, this is the extent of it.  Please don't think I'm crazy.  I'm not, I just have this one thing, that's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm alright though, everything's under control, and actually, I'm pretty happy.  I had an awesome time last night.  I've got a sweet potato with coriander for dinner tonight.  I've got a CD of Serge Gainsbourg.  I'm going to go and find out how to say "stop - hammertime" in Chinese now (can you hear the sweet sound of PROCRASTINATION??).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-3549607443478796432?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/3549607443478796432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=3549607443478796432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3549607443478796432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3549607443478796432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/hammerzeit.html' title='hammerzeit'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8785687881481458072</id><published>2007-04-21T13:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T14:00:24.894+01:00</updated><title type='text'>joyeux anniv....</title><content type='html'>Wow so I'm 23 eh...  Yesterday was my birthday.  I was woken up by #1 throwing balloons on me, and I jumped out of bed feeling considerably more perky than I had done the night before, when I got into #1's bed, feeling very sad indeed.  She'd bought me loads of goodies to eat - chocolate cake and strawberries :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went off to work, busied myself with doing sales leads (dullness-times-a-million).  M, aka "picasso-potato" wished me "warm wishes" for my birthday and although I tried to control the involuntary shuddering, I couldn't help it.  I got to chat to SS a lot more than usual, which was really nice.  He's probably the nicest boss you could ever have.  He's fair and he's really fun.  Plus I like him a lot, we agree on a lot of things (including the new Rihanna song).  I think if it wasn't for him and K, I would hate work.  Whereas I feel that if I get my work done, I'm actually rewarded for it - whether by having a laugh or doing the stationery order (I am a strangely big fan of the stationery order).  That makes it sound really lame.  It's not lame at all.  My job could be utter shit if the people were all awful - like M, as a prime example - but as it is, I like being there (up to a certain point, which I'll get onto in a bit).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a complete tit of myself when I was given a cake (normally I am the one who carries the cake so it was very interesting to be on the receiving end of it!).  Apparently I didn't go too red, but I am sure I sounded like a fool.  When I was trying to cut the cake, my hand was shaking so much.  I hate that my hand shakes.  I think it's my medication but it gets far worse whenever I have any pressure or anxiety - hence why when I had that argument with crazy-ayatollah-wannabe housemate, I turned into a lump of jelly.  It was so sweet though to get a card, present and cake from everybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the other people at work had already arranged that we would go to the Fitzroy after work, so we all headed over there (en route I had a very strange conversation with my mum).  To be honest, it was quite disappointing.  #1 was there, which I was very happy with.  A lot of people ignored me.  I find it very odd how people can write "lots of love" in a card and then completely ignore me in the pub.  That's not to say that the people I would consider to be my friends at work weren't nice.  Some other people who I don't even know very well were very sweet and I must try to be less of a social retard when I see them next week (I am completely socially inept).  But it's very odd.  The pub was packed, so me, #1 and D sat outside the pub and drank wine, but in the end we got too cold and left, and went to an O'Neills.  It was so much nicer, and I was glad to be with just #1 and D, who I don't know all that well, but I think is lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've written far more than enough about work now.  After we left the pub, #1 and I stood underneath S's window and shouted her name until she came down and let us in, and we drank tea and ate twix bars.  S is an amazing girl and I only wish she would recognise it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home, the train was delayed at Victoria station so we went to get the tube.  We suddenly heard "Can Inspector Sands please come to the control room!" on the tannoy.  'Inspector Sands' is the London Underground's code for EMERGENCY, and whether it's meant to be a secret or not, I don't know, because we both knew about it.  The staff said there was a fire and the whole station got evacuated, but there wasn't a fire - there was no fire brigade.  There was a screen at ground level that showed what was happening on the platform, and we could see police, a lone man, and no trains stopping.  Then a fucking BIRD did a SHIT on my jacket.  It was strangely comical.  Over an hour later, we finally got a train and back to the hood we went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got home, we drank wine and I accidentally made #1 cry.  Then I had an argument with G.  Then I did something stupid.  Then I fell asleep listening to my mp3 player.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8785687881481458072?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8785687881481458072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8785687881481458072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8785687881481458072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8785687881481458072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/joyeux-anniv.html' title='joyeux anniv....'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4452410094295316716</id><published>2007-04-18T08:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T14:22:59.625+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah your mum called, she said you're adopted.</title><content type='html'>Two choice conversations at work yesterday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K - You remind me a little bit of Mr Darcy, you know.&lt;br /&gt;M - Is it because you like to think of me naked frolicking in a pond?&lt;br /&gt;K - Ewwww.  What a mental image.  Urgh.  No!!&lt;br /&gt;M - . . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M - What's the name of that actress??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everyone ignores M&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;M - You know, the really famous one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;laughter from everyone (the AT not WITH kind)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;M - She was in "Becoming Jane"&lt;br /&gt;K - Becoming Jane?  That's what I call you sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;M - I've never heard you say that!&lt;br /&gt;K - Yeah well that's because I don't say it loud enough so you can hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, you try working with M  - "he's got a face like a Picasso painting - his features are all in the wrong place!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;After work I went to the library.  It was actually a lot of fun.  Me and S spent ages discussing orientalism and occidentalism and whether it could therefore be said that there's a prediliction in human nature to define oneself through opposition to a definable binary opposite (answer: too long to explain at 8:30am, though in summary, when it leads to racism then it's a bad thing).  It was far more fun than it should have been to be in the disabilities room with no shoes on, writing ideas about universality on the whiteboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half the time, when I speak, I think I'm a fucking AMAZING human being.  The rest of the time, I hear myself and I think, what a cunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to hospital today, so no work.  By the end of the day I need to have written (or at least started) my essay but at the moment I am far too confused by endless conditional parity progression tables, and would rather stay at home and listen to silly music... hello Rihanna and Jay-Z, goodbye remnants of degree...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4452410094295316716?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4452410094295316716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4452410094295316716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4452410094295316716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4452410094295316716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/yeah-youre-mum-called-she-said-youre.html' title='Yeah your mum called, she said you&apos;re adopted.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-3512126237807478021</id><published>2007-04-17T00:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T00:32:00.834+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck you, Justin Timberlake, with your improbably catchy song.</title><content type='html'>Today was my first day doing normal "real world" things again.  You know the sort, getting dressed and going outside.  However now I feel like shit.  My stomach is clearly not right - I suspect it might be IBS, which is always really pleasant.  And now I have a headache that feels like my head might fall off.  It's not the normal headache I get, in the middle of my head (the ridged bit that swells up really easily).  Instead it's like my whole head is stuck in a very tight vice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pissed off because I don't have time to be ill again.  I didn't have time last week and now I especially don't have time because I have these two essays to do and no time left to do them in.  I kind of know what my argument is - in fact I think I'm quite sorted on that - it's just that I have to wade through a few books and about a hundred journal articles to get all the information I need.  My mum and brother came to visit the other day and brought me some of my old folders, and looking through my Econ folder makes me sad.  That was a 3rd year Econ course that I did in 2nd year, with no economics background, and I did really well.  Why didn't I continue with that?  Maybe I like growth patterns?  Maybe I like drawing little graphs that find Harberger's triangle?  So why, please tell me WHY am I doing goddamm international relations (which I have never found all that exciting)?  And for the love of god, what made me think that doing language exams again would be a good idea?  Did I learn nothing from the Bain Of My Existence, aka A Level German?  I think we all know I should stick to what I am good at.  Which appears to be Cold War Economics, but this is now BESIDE THE POINT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I love anthropology.  I just had a bit of hissy fit cos yet another book had the names written the old way, not in pinyin.  I can't connect the two, maybe it's my dyspraxia or whatever, but I have to translate it into Chinese and then back to English to figure it out.  You'd think Ch'-ing = Qing would be easy but no.  When I rule the world I will get all the old books reprinted so I can read them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not helping that I have burst into tears at least three times today.  I am such a loser.  I can't stop crying ALL THE TIME.  I'm having to wear less eyeliner because of this.  I mean, seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I've done is complain in this post, which is a shame cos I had some nice/important things to write.  Instead I'm going to get in bed and cry until I fall asleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-3512126237807478021?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/3512126237807478021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=3512126237807478021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3512126237807478021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3512126237807478021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/fuck-you-justin-timberlake-with-your.html' title='Fuck you, Justin Timberlake, with your improbably catchy song.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-169764240829218864</id><published>2007-04-14T21:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-14T21:40:21.288+01:00</updated><title type='text'>This is a post all about vomiting. Just so you know.</title><content type='html'>On Wednesday morning, about 2am, and I woke up, walked to the bathroom in a haze and threw up.  Then I brushed my teeth and went back to bed.  This isn't that weird for me.  At about 5.30am I woke up again and had to seriously RUN to the bathroom, where I threw up more.  I had a pain in my stomach like I was being stabbed from the inside, and I got back into bed, crying.  I hid from my housemates and shouted at #1's boyfriend when he offered to make me tea.  I tried to sleep but everything hurt too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By about 11am, everyone had left.  By this point I had vomited everything I'd eaten in the previous two days.  I'd tried to sleep on the bathroom floor.  My stomach hurt so much that I thought my appendix had burst.  I'd tried to sleep on the sofa because it's darker in there, before going back to my bed.  I knew I was getting dehydrated so I was trying to drink water.  At this point I threw up ALL OVER MY BED.  I ran to the bathroom, where I threw up on my leg.  Truly disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RiE63JUVnqI/AAAAAAAAABo/3vwvDVkcL-Q/s1600-h/13042007233.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RiE63JUVnqI/AAAAAAAAABo/3vwvDVkcL-Q/s200/13042007233.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053384975954845346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a moment of lucidity I stripped my bed, then got out the spare mattress in the living room, which, being hospital surplus, is wipeable.  I got a bucket and put it next to this new bed.  I spent the next two days in this bed, occasionally getting up to throw up either water or small amounts of dry toast.  I also probably spent a lot of time crying and moaning in my sleep.  I dunno.  I slept a lot.  My head hurt so when I got up I had to put my invalid hat on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three thoughts occured to me during one of my more surreal vomiting episodes:&lt;br /&gt;1) Isn't your food only meant to stay in your stomach for 3 hours?? I know I have a love/hate relationship with my digestive system at the best of times, but am I keeping food in my stomach for 2 days? That's surely wrong.&lt;br /&gt;2) Throwing up only water is strangely satisfying.&lt;br /&gt;3) Man, I never realised bile was so YELLOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RiE7TJUVnrI/AAAAAAAAABw/XoOZKGbpDuM/s1600-h/13042007235.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RiE7TJUVnrI/AAAAAAAAABw/XoOZKGbpDuM/s320/13042007235.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053385456991182514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I went to the doctor and she said I had gastroenteritis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what is said on the hospital bed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pressure sores.  Nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-169764240829218864?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/169764240829218864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=169764240829218864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/169764240829218864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/169764240829218864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/this-is-post-all-about-vomiting-just-so.html' title='This is a post all about vomiting. Just so you know.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RiE63JUVnqI/AAAAAAAAABo/3vwvDVkcL-Q/s72-c/13042007233.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2501722992217683082</id><published>2007-04-10T22:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-10T22:50:21.904+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't think I can stop crying.  Someone has written the nicest thing about me, and since I read it I have been weeping in my room and ignoring the banging on the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am such a crap person for not noticing what was going on and for being so absorbed in my own world.  There are far more important things than me, or what I think, yet somehow I think every attack is directed at me and I have this overinflated sense of self.  When really, if I opened my eyes, I would see that there is far more going on, of far more worth, than the bullshit I have in my emo little life.  I'm such a fucking idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I can say sorry enough.  But I'm really sorry for not being there - mentally as well as physically - and for being so blind as to everything in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My god I am so far off an adult.  I can't believe anyone ever takes advice from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And screw these essays.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2501722992217683082?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2501722992217683082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2501722992217683082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2501722992217683082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2501722992217683082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-dont-think-i-can-stop-crying.html' title=''/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-8140240321655975300</id><published>2007-04-09T15:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T15:54:21.673+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Note to self</title><content type='html'>I'm really saying "oooooh yeaaaah" a bit too much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-8140240321655975300?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/8140240321655975300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=8140240321655975300' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8140240321655975300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/8140240321655975300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/note-to-self.html' title='Note to self'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2199568560953586079</id><published>2007-04-09T15:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T15:41:58.820+01:00</updated><title type='text'>If French is the language of love, Spanish is the language of lust.</title><content type='html'>Today I'm feeling quite chirpy really.  My back is sunburnt but it doesn't hurt too much cos I've put lots of cream on it.  Everyone was shocked at how red I was - I'm like, I'm IRISH, this is our natural colour!  Anyway, yesterday was awesome.  I love summer in London.  I can still do handstands - woohoo - but after literally FOUR, I got shooting pains up my arms (hello, tendonitis!) and had to stop.  My body hates me.  It's basically an ill-formed, bright red CALAMITY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm at home fooling myself that I might do some work, but instead I'm facebooking and listening to music (all of which I hate... I need new music) and trying to decide whether learning the words to "My Way" in Spanish would be a COMPLETE waste of time.  I'm also getting really pissed off with the amount of flies in my room.  I reckon it's cos of the skips outside, but it's so annoying.  My room is not a fly sanctuary for fuck's sake.  I am swatting them with a rounders bat, oooooh yeah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2199568560953586079?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2199568560953586079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2199568560953586079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2199568560953586079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2199568560953586079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/if-french-is-language-of-love-spanish.html' title='If French is the language of love, Spanish is the language of lust.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4313951445572619174</id><published>2007-04-06T13:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-06T13:58:22.117+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah, well just watch out you don't end up in a bath of sand.</title><content type='html'>Four day weekend ooooooh yeeeeeeaaaaaah.  And it's warm.  And we're going to Hampstead Heath and I'm going to go in the ponds.  And loads of other cool stuff is happening this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night before last I watched "Ultimate Boy Party" and so spent quite a lot of time at work yesterday slapping my face.  Then we got worried that maybe the really sweet Chinese girl who sits next to me is disgusted by all our talk of gay porn.  I can only console myself with the thought that I'm a gora and therefore morally suspect from the beginning.  No respect, etc.  Anyway, work descended into marshmallow throwing, and chump-face (irritating boy opposite me) came up with some bullshit idea about eco-forfeits or something.  I have found that putting in my headphones when he starts talking is quite effective, even if my mp3 player isn't on.  It's a psychological thing.  He's just such an awful person - and such a misogynist.  I can't wait until he leaves to join his crappy accountancy firm.  Maybe then he'll find people he can actually respect (just as long as they fit his blinkered world view of who is superior to him etc).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after work I went to Zhao Laoshi's birthday.  It was full of journalists - and my teacher, who studiously ignored me.  It was a bit weird actually, the whole situation.  P was being a bit funny with me - again - and only seemed to act like he didn't think I was the most annoying person he knew when he was talking to someone else who he clearly thought was even MORE boring than me.  I'm getting a bit tired of all these silly games.  When I told him about my birthday, he sort of laughed at me.  Now, okay, maybe I overanalyse... but why would I try and see that in someone?  He clearly thought it was a stupid idea.  Meh.  Eventually M and D turned up, which was cool because they're lovely and at least I know where I am with them.  They may be far younger than P, but they act in a far more mature and straight forward way.  Unfortunately I had to leave soon after they got there :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1's leaving drinks were quite fun, yet more journalists, and a lot of drunken silliness.  We got invited to France.  Eventually me and #1's gentleman friend dragged her home, where I licked her face, and she licked my ear.  Then the fuckwit in the flat above ours played some shite music ALL FUCKING NIGHT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm might walk over to Peckham now.  Peckham is officially safer than Oxford Street, but these snobs won't believe me.  Oh well, I win.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4313951445572619174?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4313951445572619174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4313951445572619174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4313951445572619174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4313951445572619174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/yeah-well-just-watch-out-you-dont-end.html' title='Yeah, well just watch out you don&apos;t end up in a bath of sand.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-7357425195600032179</id><published>2007-04-03T23:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-04T00:02:14.339+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I have read approximately nothing.  Ever.</title><content type='html'>I take hope in the knowledge that I wasn't the only one who fell for the April Fool's thing.  At least I only called ONE person (eh Omar...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the plans for my birthday thing are slowly coming together - seeing as we've been talking about it for five years, this year I will be having a joint birthday celebration with SB.  This makes me happy because if no one turns up that I've invited, I can steal all her friends and then tell her none of mine came cos they don't like her.  I hope she reads this, the bike geek....  obviously I'm only joking cos she's wicked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you like to see a picture of my ex boyfriend??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RhLbGBkkHfI/AAAAAAAAABg/jVP-gXpIjOI/s1600-h/n505927749_34023_6758.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RhLbGBkkHfI/AAAAAAAAABg/jVP-gXpIjOI/s320/n505927749_34023_6758.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049339028783242738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Quite the looker eh?  I love that photo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing much of wit to write today.  Met up with E, the world's greatest stage manager, after work.  I think she's absolutely fantastic.  If I write any more it will be sycophantic.  I'm clearly rubbish at writing anything that isn't at least vaguely pessimistic - just call it realism and pacify me, thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-7357425195600032179?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/7357425195600032179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=7357425195600032179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7357425195600032179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/7357425195600032179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-have-read-approximately-nothing-ever.html' title='I have read approximately nothing.  Ever.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/RhLbGBkkHfI/AAAAAAAAABg/jVP-gXpIjOI/s72-c/n505927749_34023_6758.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-2052073621640582964</id><published>2007-04-02T22:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T23:36:17.021+01:00</updated><title type='text'>things that go "hoho" in the night</title><content type='html'>Several amusing things today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. "I just found a whole bunch of pictures of you and Mark West [a guy from school] which I will sell to The Sun when you're prime minister.  You have to see these!  Am in uni tomorrow.  Innit." - potentially hugely humiliating photos of me aged 15, courtesy of one of my friends from school who now goes to my uni and I had the whole 'too much grolsch, not enough sleep, post essay, drunken fighting, one night stand' thing with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. "Dear Hattie (if I may)" - how much do I love my supervisor???  I haven't even met him and already I think he's awesome.  I might go and google image him now actually.......... okay, he's not a middle aged chinese man so the chances of him fancying me are ZERO but I could see a glorious future for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to stop with the inappropriate crushes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. This &lt;a href="http://observer.guardian.co.uk/politics/story/0,,2047498,00.html"&gt;story &lt;/a&gt;... it's not true, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://observer.guardian.co.uk/politics/story/0,,2047498,00.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-2052073621640582964?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/2052073621640582964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=2052073621640582964' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2052073621640582964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/2052073621640582964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/things-that-go-hoho-in-night.html' title='things that go &quot;hoho&quot; in the night'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-6702996689323821754</id><published>2007-04-01T16:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-01T16:33:46.212+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Please don't think I want anything else but karaoke.</title><content type='html'>I was just THIS close to throwing up all over the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My insides are playing a cruel trick on me.  Must have been the gold I was wearing huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus - and slightly more constructive - side, this weekend I have washed some clothes and defrosted the fridge.  #1 reckoned it was about to explode, and if I fucked up the fridge in any way I would completely ruin the glorious image of when my ex broke the fridge.  He decided the best way to de-ice it was to hammer and chisel at the ice, but he only had one working arm because he'd been knocked off his bike and broken his arm.... so of course he chiseled through the gas stuff that makes the fridge work....&lt;br /&gt;... I got home and he'd tried to fix it with an elastoplast and a bit of blu-tack.  And was drinking a beer, on the wet, icy kitchen floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point it would be so easy to make a sweeping generalisation.  And I would like to think that I'm above that.  But what with that and S's cousin who dug a hole in the floor so that the door would fit, rather than filing the door, I think the only conclusion to be made is obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm off to check on the fridge now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-6702996689323821754?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/6702996689323821754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=6702996689323821754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6702996689323821754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6702996689323821754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/04/please-dont-think-i-want-anything-else.html' title='Please don&apos;t think I want anything else but karaoke.'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-398743768786717221</id><published>2007-03-31T12:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T13:40:14.167+01:00</updated><title type='text'>semi-professional unprofessionalism</title><content type='html'>Note to self - never drink again.  Or, if the plan is to go out for ONE DRINK, then try and stick to it just a little bit, and don't leave the pub when it closes.  My head is punishing me today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a nice week, although I've done approximately no work on either of my essays.  I've also done no Chinese, no washing, no cleaning, and pretty much nothing constructive.  I've spent a lot of time moping around though, so I dunno, that's good I guess.  M came round for dinner on Thursday, which was lovely.  We stayed up til late, talking in bed.  It was like being a kid again, when you have a sleepover and you stay up til some ridiculous hour, whispering and giggling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turns out people have been gossiping about me at work!  There's a surprise.  At my last job, there were several rumours going round about me: firstly that I was some sort of sexual deviant... actually that was pretty much it, but there were variations on that.  I was meant to have had a threesome, and I enjoyed being bitten and really short men.  Ironically, when I actually DID do anything with a guy in the office, there wasn't too  much gossip.  Probably cos it's not so funny if it's true.  Actually, there may well have been gossip.  At the last christmas party I was told some stuff, but I was so shit faced that all I can remember is being very shocked and hoping that I'd remember in the morning - which of course I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY.  The current gossip is regarding my boyfriend, which is news to me as I wasn't aware I had one.  An email apparently went round yesterday and everyone thinks I'm dating this guy.  Amusing.  He's really hot though so it could be a lot lot lot worse - it could be the man everyone thinks is a vampire, or the intensely irritating guy who sits opposite me, who I've had to put a pot plant in front of so I don't have to look at his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just sneezed and maaaaaaaaan sneezing on a hangover is pain city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss The Crucible and all the people in it.  Though I don't miss my bonnet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should probably try and do something productive with my day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-398743768786717221?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/398743768786717221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=398743768786717221' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/398743768786717221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/398743768786717221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/03/semi-professional-unprofessionalism.html' title='semi-professional unprofessionalism'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4520441674364186932</id><published>2007-03-27T00:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-27T00:18:22.573+01:00</updated><title type='text'>lithium</title><content type='html'>Bizarre day.  I pressed send/receive a MILLION times.  I got depressed.  I took a really long detour over to LSE so I could walk by the church.  Then I nearly got run over by a cyclist who turned out to be a guy from work.  I have realised that absolutely nothing is down to chance.  Somehow it all happens for a reason, and that's at least some consolation when it comes to certain events in my past.  I worry that I'm turning into crazy Andy sometimes, with his talk of coincidences, but at least I don't live in a hammock and never leave the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home I had a revelation about post-structuralism and in particular how it can explain Irish history, and then of course I got super patriotic and started shouting at the TV: "give us back our country you bastards"  But really.  Give it back.  Or at least learn a lesson, namely that if you invade/steal someone elses country, they will be ANGRY and then they will BOMB you.  Ja.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening #1 and I cyber-stalked her boss.  And sang along to Johnny Cash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are okay? (no they're not)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4520441674364186932?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4520441674364186932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4520441674364186932' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4520441674364186932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4520441674364186932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/03/lithium.html' title='lithium'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-4384796958026610874</id><published>2007-03-25T17:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T18:09:22.552+01:00</updated><title type='text'>THE CRUCIBLE is over... booo</title><content type='html'>Revelations a-plenty in the land of me (lambistan).  My lungs sound like a 50 year old miner thanks to the dust in the crypt.  I worry when I cough that a brick will come out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been trying to sleep all day but have been woken repeatedly by my hip, which is clearly determined to destroy my life.  My painkillers only woke when I take double the dose and then it makes my insides go OUCH.  I complain too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thursday it was the first performance of the play and it was fucking AWESOME even though I threw up with nerves at work in the morning (aka I "did a Kevin").  It was the most amazing performance, and I got really hyperactive afterwards and was quite rude to my ex, although in fairness, he was wearing leggings.  Me and G went to ULU, where M was in really fine fettle and tried to convince G to come and live in Hong Kong with us next year.  For some reason we ended up at the 333, despite it being at the top of the list of places I never want to go to again (due to the events of December 2002 and the ensuing... what would you call it? calamity?).  But it was alright, a girl kissed my forehead and told me I was beautiful.  Aw, fanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday's performance lacked that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thing&lt;/span&gt; that had made Thursday's so good - nervous tension maybe?  I felt a bit funny cos of G, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday's performance was cooler than cool, though.  I feel so bereft without the play now.  Though I don't miss my costume, or having to creep creep creep around because of the creaky boards.  But ah, I miss my drama-family, and it will be weird to have evenings to myself again.  What will I do?  Actually I know what I'll do - I'll play my violin (tendonitis permitting)  and I'll write my essays.  I'm working full time from tomorrow.  Urgh.  But money = necessary.  I'll miss the feeling of performing as well - that rush you get, and the feeling of disconnection to everything tangible and real.  I remember now why I wanted to be a violinist.  I get such a kick out of that adrenalin, the culmination of all that practice and mind-numbing technique and discipline... the way I feel so sick and like my head will blow off and just ALIVE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the performance, I went to the pub with my cousin, #1 and SB, and then me and my cousin went to the after party, though he didn't stay long.  It was fun - I danced with A (whose mum said I was the best in the play!  I was really chuffed until he told me that his mum can't really speak english.  It's still cool though, I reckon), some girl took terrible terrible pictures of me, I snogged my friend, I did some karaoke, I did some fucking PUBLIC SPEAKING (is this the same me as a year ago?), and then some fuckwit stole C's phone so I walked her home.  I got home just after 6.30 and couldn't sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a bit weird now to be honest.  The prospect of no play, and full time work stretching ahead of me is unsettling.  Snogging your friends is always a headfuck.  I saw two out of three of my ex boyfriends this week.  One of the lecturers at uni has asked me out.  I don't know whether this is an abuse of position?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to do some violin practice before I am fed a roast dinner - mmmmmm domestic life is nice sometimes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-4384796958026610874?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/4384796958026610874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=4384796958026610874' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4384796958026610874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/4384796958026610874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/03/crucible-is-over-booo.html' title='THE CRUCIBLE is over... booo'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-3813252181040199561</id><published>2007-03-18T22:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-18T22:36:01.593Z</updated><title type='text'>Okay, so I know I'm a complete failure. Can you please leave me alone now?</title><content type='html'>Tonight I started crying while we were watching TV and had to run away cos I am a loser.  Now I am in my room - which I had started to tidy but now can't be bothered to finish - listening to the same song on repeat and drinking cups of tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier I listened to loads of bhangra and danced around but now I feel flattened, and completely devoid of hope.  I went to church today, which is unusual for me (it was a special occasion - I have not taken up religion, it's not like things aren't complicated enough) and the priest/vicar/whatever you call them said that the three most important things in life were: TRUST, HOPE and LOVE, of which love was the most important.  I have none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a picture of me asleep in drama rehearsal.  On a table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rf2-G0B8QAI/AAAAAAAAABU/kqPhChwAVK8/s1600-h/n223200956_160859_355.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rf2-G0B8QAI/AAAAAAAAABU/kqPhChwAVK8/s320/n223200956_160859_355.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043396181980102658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tonight, like last night, I'm going to sleep in #1's bed (she's away until thursday).  I'm less inclined to do bad things if I sleep in there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-3813252181040199561?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/3813252181040199561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=3813252181040199561' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3813252181040199561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/3813252181040199561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/03/okay-so-i-know-im-complete-failure-can.html' title='Okay, so I know I&apos;m a complete failure. Can you please leave me alone now?'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wN-RpGIUCC4/Rf2-G0B8QAI/AAAAAAAAABU/kqPhChwAVK8/s72-c/n223200956_160859_355.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-6941025952844007208</id><published>2007-03-15T23:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-16T00:09:21.449Z</updated><title type='text'>the curse is never broken</title><content type='html'>I can't say I'm feeling a whole lot better really.  I don't know why I wrote that last post.  It's not like I'm going to talk to anyone about it.  I've talked to people I don't even know, on t'internet, and I've spoken to one person about it.  He was very understanding - scarily so in fact, as I'm now worried to ever speak to him again for fear of what I might say next.  He tried to convince me that I'm being irrational, but I genuinely believe that I'm being completely rational.  I'm not stupid, I know what's going on.  Whatever, it's FINE and even if it's not, I'll just lie and say it is.  You know me, that's my thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so tired, I want to sleep forever.  I slept in the common room.  Then I tried to sleep on a desk.  Now I'm at home and I have made some conversation and done the only thing have any talent for (proofreading) and I'm so tired that I don't think I can sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want it all to go away.  If I had read better books in my life I would be more articulate and I would be able to express myself through the medium of words rather than crying and being horrible to people and cutting myself.  I don't think I have any words left.  I am desolate.  I am a disappointment.  I am alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-6941025952844007208?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/6941025952844007208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=6941025952844007208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6941025952844007208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6941025952844007208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/03/curse-is-never-broken.html' title='the curse is never broken'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20041845.post-6595692871727141991</id><published>2007-03-09T20:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-10T04:33:06.517Z</updated><title type='text'>My body is a cage, to paraphrase the Arcade Fire</title><content type='html'>Perhaps it's time to be honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm completely freaked out.   I started crying in the road because I have the largest struggle ahead, and I know that I know now what I have to do.  I am absolutely terrified, because to do it, I would have to dismantle my life.   And that is a horrific thought, even though I know it would be much better in the end.   I don't know whether I can live with the literal "deconstruction".   I certainly don't think I should inflict it on my housemates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth of the matter - well, the truth, the truth....  Isn't that subjective?   Enough joking, enough fooling around, with all my bravado and my bullshit.   &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The truth is ugly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi.   I'm 22, I'm doing a Masters, which I'm doing terribly at.   I have pretty much ZERO job prospects.   I'm have bulimia.   I cut myself.   When I can't cut myself I find anything to hurt myself with.   I have a problem with alcohol.   I lie about all of this, to you all, to myself, to whoever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be like this anymore.   I'm so tired.  I want to sleep forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have to go and be sociable.   I will pay for all this deceit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20041845-6595692871727141991?l=mintedlamb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/feeds/6595692871727141991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20041845&amp;postID=6595692871727141991' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6595692871727141991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20041845/posts/default/6595692871727141991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mintedlamb.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-body-is-cage-to-paraphrase-arcade.html' title='My body is a cage, to paraphrase the Arcade Fire'/><author><name>Pottachan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02102839557828120265</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://a144.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/48/l_3d246189de8a6040937453324b56682f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
