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A long long long time overdue

Mar. 21st, 2013 | 04:57 pm
mood: Apologetic

Cor! Blimey! I don't believe it! You leave a website laying about for four measly years and Ryanair thinks they can just waltz in and clutter up the place with their poxy little comments like nobody's business! Dear me! I ask you, WHAT is this world coming to? Weren't like this before the war!

Anyway.

A long long time ago I started posting these things because I thought it would be interesting to document my response to a cultural phenomenon in real time. Furthermore I thought it would be a bit funny and a bit interesting and would give me an opportunity to talk to some interesting people in the kind of nitty-gritty, minutiae-obsessed detail that I like to operate in.

A slightly less long long time ago I stopped posting these things because of various thrilling 19-year-old typed things that can happen to a 19-year-old to distract their attention. I put it off for a bit and then a bit more and then I accidentally finished reading all four Twilight books (they're very readable!) and, in my head, this invalidated the entire experiment. This is, of course, nonsense. What's more, it's nonsense that probably let down the lovely people I was talking to who had kindly put up with and, indeed, engaged with my crap. I am truly sorry for this. There is no excuse for disappointing people who have been kind to you. I would also like to apologise for sounding like a self-aggrandizing twat in this apology. I do realise that I didn't ruin anyone's life by not posting my dimly amusing Twilight commentaries but damn it, dickitude is dickitude and I was a dick.

I am very sorry.

Now with regards to this blog. Er. Well I dunno really. It's been so long. Twilight has been out for such a long time that much wittier people than I have reacted to it. And I feel pretty confident that the blogosphere is not crying out for my particular response. I did have a few other chapters on my old laptop though so I should probably hunt that down and put them up, for the sake of completeness. We'll see where that gets us. I'll also delete all the spammy rubbish. Basically I will post some things but I'm not totally sure what those things are at this point BUT  I'll get my shit together over the weekend and let you know.

Thank you to all the wonderful people who commented here. It meant and means a lot me.

August.
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Chapter Twelve: ALICE! Thank god you're... Alice? Alice come back! Alice? Rosalie? Bueller? Anyone?

Jul. 8th, 2009 | 02:23 pm
mood: relievedrelieved

Chapter Twelve: Balancing

 

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- August.

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Of course, I do pay for my broadband in chickens so perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised...

Jul. 7th, 2009 | 11:58 pm
mood: exhaustedexhausted

The Tuesday after I last posted, I had the following conversation with one of the brain-dead luddites that work for my local phone company.

Me: Sorry to bother you, but I seem to be having difficulty getting online.
Internet Grinch: Yeah. And?
Me: Er... My broadband isn’t working. That’s what I’m calling about.
Internet Grinch: Well I don’t know what I can do for you.
Me: I pay you money every month to provide me with a broadband service. I don’t have that service. So I’m calling to get that service or, if you prefer, my money back.
IG: Oh alright. What are your account details?
Me: (I tell him.)
IG: Where did you say you lived again?
Me: (I tell him.)
IG: Oh, they’ve been doing work out that way. Someone should’ve contacted you about it. A line might’ve been temporarily taken down – don’t worry about it, it just means that your internet and phone connection won’t work for a couple of hours. Is there anything else I can help you with?
Me: I’m calling you from my landline.
IG: Mm-hmm?
Me: Well how can the line be down if I’m calling you from my landline?
IG: Dunno. What else can I do for you?

[After 1 hour and 20 minutes (I timed it) of fighting with him, his boss, the local engineers and – bizarrely – the billing department, we establish that a connection is loose as a result of the work being done on the line and will have to be repaired to return me and my immediate neighbours’ broadband.]

Me: So you’ll send someone out to fix it then?
New, Local Internet Grinch Who I’m Fairly Certain I Went To School With: Yeah, first thing tomorrow.
Me: Tomorrow?
NLIGWIFCIWTSW: First thing.
Me: But it’s four o’clock on a Tuesday. You’re telling me there’s no one available at four o’clock on a Tuesday?
NLIGWIFCIWTSW: Well there would be. Normally. But, y’see, the lead engineer in your area is going on... oh. Oh. Hang on, he’s going on holiday so there won’t be anyone in tomorrow.
Me: ... Holiday?
NLIGWIFCIWTSW: I’ll check when he’s back... Oh. Er. Well he ain’t back for another three weeks.
Me: THREE WEEKS! Where the fuck is he going for three weeks? And why don’t you have anyone covering him? And who goes on holiday on a Tuesday afternoon, anyway? What is wrong with you people?!
NLIGWIFCIWTSW: Well it’s cheaper flights midweek.
Me: Well what am I meant to do until then?
NLIGWIFCIWTSW: ...
Me: Well?
NLIGWIFCIWTSW: ...read something?

Philistine. Anyway, I stayed up until midnight just to check that my internet was actually working again. As you can clearly see it is, so I shall update tomorrow. I should probably do it now, but I haven’t proof-read it yet or put in any of the links or anything and I’m too damn tired to do it now.

I’m amazed and hugely flattered that people still read this despite my ineptitude and the Comedy of Errors that is my life. So thank you all, and please drop in tomorrow to read Chapter Twelve.

Or, better yet, wait until after Thursday when I will have finished Chapter Thirteen to see me rant about sparkly vampires and link to more Twilight merchandise than anyone ever wanted to see.

-August
xx

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Chapter Eleven: Are there no Meth Labs in Forks?

Jun. 14th, 2009 | 11:16 pm
mood: accomplishedaccomplished

Hello my lovelies. I have emerged more or less unscathed from the perilous depths of exam season  and returned with another chapter. I’m sorry it’s a bit late, but I unexpectedly had to return home for the summer and in the process my laptop went missing (horrors!), my copy of Twilight went missing (it was in Norway – don’t ask), my Twilight reading friends were hundreds of miles away (well, technically I was hundreds of miles away) and I forgot my Livejournal log-in details so I couldn’t even sign-in from another computer.

It was frustrating. BUT I’m here now, and I’m miles away from civilisation so I’ll be posting much more frequently. I intend to be onto the second book before I return to my bustling metropolis in September.

Anyway, how have you all been?

Chapter Eleven: Complications

 

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- August
 

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Chapter Ten: Shmee Has Some More Exposition

May. 11th, 2009 | 01:50 pm
mood: exhaustedexhausted

Right, it’s midnight and I should be studying. Or sleeping. Or possibly doing some of the mountain of laundry that is currently threatening to consume my back room. Whatever. I don’t care. I need an outlet for my sarcasm and Chapter Ten is quite short, so without further ado -

Chapter Ten:  Interrogations

 

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- August.


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A spot of housekeeping...

May. 4th, 2009 | 08:10 pm
mood: determineddetermined

I regret to inform you (God, do I ever regret to inform you) that I have some exams coming up, the first one being next Friday. I am relatively confident in my ability to pass the aforementioned exams, and to do so without resorting to copious amounts of adderall or hiring a lookalike. Despite this, I’ll still be hitting the books pretty hard until... ::ponders:: Until the 25th of May. After that, all I really need to do is turn up and remain vaguely conscious throughout.

Updates will still occur during this time (I need SOMETHING entertaining to do while most of my friends are off trying to find Postgraduate students that look a bit like them) but they’ll be less frequent. Obviously not less frequent than they were in the great yawning void of nothingness that occurred between Chapters Six and Seven, but less frequent than they have been recently I mean.

If you should find yourself bored and irritated that I haven’t updated, I suggest rereading the first book while playing a drinking game.

Maybe, take half a shot of alcohol every time the word “Perfect” (“perfectly” “perfection” etc) or “Beautiful” (“Beauty” “Beautifully” etc) is used. Take a whole shot whenever Edward gets more than a sentence of description, two whole shots when his face is described and as much as you can swallow in one go whenever his eyes are described.

By the time the alcohol poisoning has worn off, I’ll be up and running again. Which will be more than you can say, if your reread took you past Chapter Two.

-

ETA:

A Request For InformationCollapse )

 

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Chapter Nine: Conversations With Smug People

May. 1st, 2009 | 11:28 pm
mood: blahblah

Right, I was trying to be delicate earlier with the request for people to post comments. I see now that this attempt at delicacy came across merely as a desperate plea for attention from a strange woman in Scotland who may or may not be slightly mentally deranged: It wasn't.

Well, it was, I suppose. But it wasn't just that.

You see, with a few dearly beloved and highly prized exceptions, I don't have a clue who most of the people on my friends list are. Obviously, the logical thing for me to do would be to go onto their LJs, read a few entries, post a comment and have a bit of crack. [As in, the Irish term meaning "Enjoyable social intercourse consisting of amusing anecdotes and interesting conversation" rather than freebased cocaine. Just to clarify.] Alas, I cannot really do this because I assume that anyone reading this is a Twilight fan, and therefore is unlikely to have a spoiler free LJ designed solely for people like me to peruse and maintain their objectivity.

Now I am absolutely sure that if you're on my FList you are a glorious person with witty and interesting observations bubbling out of you like a worryingly-active-volcano. Your comments can only improve my reading of the text and so I encourage you to leave them.

Apart from that you will be stroking my ego, feeding my attention whore addiction (which can only expedite my updates) and allowing me to convince myself that you are not actually that creep from the pizza place down the road who has been following me in a faintly sinister manner for about a week now. To be honest, it's this last one that has prompted me to post. BUT the rest of them are perfectly true also and have been bugging me for a while.

So please comment. It doesn't have to be a good comment, or long comment, or an insightful comment. "Hi" will do. "Can I call you Gussie?" will also do. "Have you heard about this somewhat dubious new breakthrough in penis enlargement and would you give me money for it?" is acceptable too, although somewhat less desirable than the first two.

Seriously.
Anything.
Work with me please, people.

And now, because that was a decidedly unlovely request, here's a picture of a dog making friends with a dolphin. Just to bring the entry's loveliness back up to par, you understand.
 

Anyway, onwards.

Chapter Nine: Theory

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The Great Pygmy Goat Caper!

Apr. 30th, 2009 | 11:16 pm
mood: gigglygiggly

This has nothing to do with... well, anything really. But after I posted this comment I had five minutes to kill until the Daily Show came on, so I ran a Google search on Pygmy Goats. It turns out there’s been a spate of Pygmy Goat kidnappings in England. Kent, in particular, seems to be bearing the brunt of these heinous crimes.
 

As a public service announcement I must advise you to please contact Peter Mercer, Chairman of the Pygmy Goat Club of Great Britain, if you see or are offered any pygmy goats which you suspect have been unlawfully obtained.


And as a personal request I must ask that if you are ever offered a pygmy goat, lawfully OR unlawfully obtained then please god, film it and put it on Youtube. This goes double if the person offering it to you does so in a dark alley from under an oversized trench-coat.

Please, please, please!

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Chapter Eight: In Many Ways, It’s Good That I’m Emotionally Involved

Apr. 27th, 2009 | 08:11 pm
mood: draineddrained

Full Disclosure: I am sleep-deprived, over-worked, and having the Mother of all Bad Days so this... thing (I’m really going to need a name for it) is perhaps a little less charitable than it could be and I apologise for that. I’ve tried to keep my rage to a reasonable level throughout, but if I’ve insulted your favourite character or you’re mortally offended by my comments on sandals then just contact me with your complaint and I shall consider it when I’m mellower. You still might be told to stuff it, though. Anyway.

Comments are my heroin, so please feed my addiction.

Perhaps with suggestions on what to call these things that I’m posting?

Chapter Eight: Port Angeles

 

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- August

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Chapter Seven: Bella? Get a Grip

Apr. 25th, 2009 | 10:01 am
mood: bitchybitchy

A brief story: I tend not to talk to my Twilight Fangirl Friends about this little endeavour, as most of them seem to consider it sacrilegious to a greater or lesser degree and then start rambling about how I’m too cynical to appreciate romantic stories. One of my Twilight Fangirl Friends’ Boyfriends, however, has read the series out of curiosity and the urge to understand his girlfriend better. Fair enough. I respect this.

What I do not respect is him taunting me with random, possibly irrelevant phrases. I dismiss most of these phrases as him being an aggravating prat, but some of them might amuse people who know what the hell he’s on about, so here we go:

“Vampire Basketball’s pretty cool though.” (I assume this is made up, since he tends to taunt me for watching basketball in the first place. See also: Vampire American Football, Vampire Ballet, Vampire Baseball, and Vampire First Division Scottish Football, all assumed to be made up, for the exact same reasons as the first one.)
Just wait ‘til the Unicorns turn up
Yeah, that bit where the Newton kid becomes President IS a little galling.
“Hell, even I’d do Edward. At least until book 3 where you find out about the third nipple, I mean.”

And, the alarming, “Have you got to the Caustic Spunk yet?

Chapter Seven: Nightmare

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- August.

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