Monthly Archives: June 2008
Best of the West – Jesse James by TCM Hitchhiker
I’ve had a rather enjoyable weekend doing mostly fuck all…
It’s the first for a while where work hasn’t been hanging over me, well, more like leering over my shoulder like a self-important teenager.
I watched Death Proof and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (long yet brutally beautiful).
I lounged on or under my star-covered duvet all weekend, only removing myself from it to hit the kitchen, shower or head or to run an emergency mission to get medicated with over-the-counter drugs and McDonalds. I feel much better now.
More unpleasantness work-wise to come, so i’m not quite clear and free just yet, but there’s a part-time pay light at the end of the tunnel and it feels goood…
It’s wrong, it’s weird, it’s a little bit gross, but i’d really like to run my fingers through this man’s hair…
I wish I could have the balls so to speak to be able to NSFW dance like Butterfly does in this scene from Death Proof. Alas, I ain’t got the room in my room to sit a chair let alone have someone sit on it. So I just watch and enjoy and think too much.
Meanwhile, check out the *awesome* chase scene- Zoe Bell spins around on the bonnet of the white Dodge Challenger as Stuntman Mike tries to bash them off the road…
Death Proof Part One
I completed reports for five classes, I went through a minor Hip Hop phase (Hello Snoop), I met my new form (only one girl cried) and I used Tor on my USB stick to break through the insanely censorious firewall at work (result!).
I watched Tommy Haas roll over to the “British player at Wimbledon!!!” bandwagon, I noticed i’m frequently using the word frak instead of fuck, I had some sort of allergic freak-out and I tried to see if McDonalds could be classed as “for medicinal purposes”…
Well, it helped me feel just a little better as I shivered on the sofa. Further studies are needed.
I’m tired, i’m shaky and i’m feeling a somewhat crap. All because I was too lazy to get round to posting my repeat prescription and I have paid the price. Ugh. Dumbfrak Monky. I’m thinking some quality curling up time is required…
Red Balloons by Jakob E
It has taken me two years but I have finally managed to complete my induction year… Hoo-fucking-ray. I’ve also managed to wangle a full time position for the next academic year (though not permanent full time) aaand I will not have to take my stress-inducing form through to Year 10.
I am happy, tired and feeling a bit put upon with reports and such but I just have to make it to Friday and things will be much easier from there on. I am looking forward to meeting my new form on Thursday evening- I am getting first years, so they will all be super scared/excited/possibly in tears when they are sorted into their form groups. They are going to be needy and thus heavily on the gosh-darned annoying side but hopefully I can instil some good behaviour in them and fingers crossed they will pass that on as they move up the school. Until the hormones kick in anyway.
Alas, I don’t have any Champagnes or Shauvauns or Strawberrys on my form list but I do have an Olympia. Hee. And I also have a student who has a history of throwing chairs when angry, along with the usual cavalcade of modernity that is “spends alternate weeks with Mum/Dad” “Lives with Mum, Dad not around” and the like. Should be interesting.
Ugh… roll on Friday…
Right now, what is really appealing to me is to become an Arts and Crafts Eugene Victor Tooms. Adhesives yes, but not from bile or saliva; zero killing would be necessary. It would be fun.
I would go somewhere cool and dark and by using multiple duvets, PVA and a stapler slowly construct a den for me to cocoon myself in. I would then proceed to spend a l-o-n-g time sleeping and lounging and would deliciously pass the time f-a-r removed from screaming obnoxious children, the light that burns and the 180 end-of-year reports I have to complete.
Fringe Fringe Fringe…
I am currently recovering from an awesome weekend of wrestling, junk food and high speed driving. I am recovering not because I was boozing it up but simply because I spent hours and hours being very very excited and therefore managed to leave myself quite exhausted. Yes, i’m a toddler at Disneyland.
To start off the weekend I took Mr. T round to MW#1’s for some pre-live event Slammiversary and lots of grease-tastic McDonalds. Unlike times past I don’t get to eat much from the Golden Arches so I appreciate the artery-hardening produce when I can get it.
From feeling appropriately post-food sluggish on his sofa I drove us at excessive speed accessorised with the random contents of MW#1’s iPod up to Coventry and to the Skydome where the evening’s shenanigans were to take place.
I’ve never driven in Coventry before and let me tell you it is truly a fucked up place, in road planning terms at least. I was freaking out with excitement anyway – big outing with MW#1, going to see actual wrestling – so my concentration was not quite what it usually is; I went the wrong way almost immediately upon actually getting into the city centre. It was a similar situation on the way back only it was dark so I was even worse at finding where the fuck I was supposed to be heading… MW#1 was heard to produce *lots* of heavy sighs during this episode :)
Aaaanyway, no thanks to my driving we managed to get there in once piece and I was astonished to see that, knowing i’m weird and all there were so many people in one place who were much weirder and indeed sadder than myself. Result. The streets and bars around the arena were filled with genuine TM freaks of the wrestling variety, people who called the wrestlers by their first names and dressed in a similar manner to the characters they loved so dearly.
Whilst queuing we collected around about eight lanyards between us and went inside to pay a tenner each for the giant glossy programs; I was looking forward to buying a He’s Hot … He’s Spicy … He Tastes Great! t-shirt but alas they were not seen to exist… MW#1 proudly wore the Submission Machine tee he purchased and I refused to chant TNA! TNA! when all around were doing so. I am *such* the spoil sport. Ahem.
To my excessive delight I found we were sitting in the front row, just a metre or so from the ring. It was a testosterone-filled place and I was a rare sight being a. female and b. not wearing anything TNA branded. Spoil sport.
I had the most awesome time and got overly excited to touch Chris Sabin and Kurt Angle, who was not wrestling but just there to exist and be fucked up. Everyone looked larger than life up in the ring and some of the moves they made were re-fucking-diculous- I love seeing big sweaty men slap each other on the chest. Class.
At the end of the evening once some chairs had been used as weapons and the guard rail smooshed out of shape the wrestlers came back in civilian clothing to meet and greet us fanboys and fangirls. They looked smaller, tired and almost regular looking in their hoodies and their sweats, normal that is apart from a bad guy character who had to keep his mask on to keep kayfabe but was wearing an enormous tie dye poncho. In a business/sport/artform that is so very very bizarre it was an excellent end to the evening.
After waiting about half and hour to get out of the car park and having to open Mr. T’s door to give the ticket to the attendant (window still stuck) we got out onto the mean roads of Coventry- and I took about six million wrong turns. MW#1 was overly patient with me as I ignored his directions and drove down roads that ended in dead ends but thanks to this patience and my eventual listening to his directions we made it out onto the ring road and then on to the motorway. Huzzah.
I stayed over at his den of iniquity – I was almost out on the sofa – and fuck me sideways with a bargepole, I actually managed to get some sort of sleep for once. I mean, almost five whole hours where I was dead to the world. Hooray!
Alas I did not get to experience any nose kissing but unusually I didn’t have to leave at some ungodly hour and so I got some quality time with the manfur. Bad, bad, bad I know but good, good, good, good.
From BBC News: ‘No excuses on school results’
“Almost one in five secondary schools in England have been given a “no excuses” warning to improve their GCSE exam results or face closure. Schools Secretary Ed Balls has launched a £400m drive to raise results in the lowest-performing 638 schools.Contrast this opinion with this comment from the TES website:
An extra 70 academies, costing £195m, will spearhead this reform, so that almost one in 10 secondary schools will have academy status by September 2010. Academies could ‘break the link between poverty and attainment’, said Mr Balls.”
“Does he refuse to recognise that quite a large chunk of the population are just crap at school subjects and/or plain old thick and lazy? What a massive presumption it is to suggest that the reason so many kids leave with sod all in areas of deprivation is not down to “the school”: it’s down to the kids for a raft of reasons involving their upbringing, their family’s commitment to education and their crappy genes.”What the fuck are they doing? Close schools based on a valuation supposedly not as important as it once was? Turn them into academies? What about the academies already on the list of failing schools? Where is the evidence that academies actually improve results? And lastly, where the hell do you plan on sending the, what, around 600,000 children that attend these failing schools when they are closed and no-one wants to take them over?
“You might as well dictate a standard of height. ‘I want all pupils to be 5ft 6in when they leave school.'”
I am not saying these schools are good- from my limited experience i.e. i’ve taught at two from the list they are absolutely dire places to try and teach and learn. In my world anyone who gets below five grades C seriously needs to stay on at school and try again- it’s really not that much to ask. So why is it things are going so very wrong? I think referring to the TES comment helps…
Image of Bora Bora by kckellner
Free inspiration courtesy of Violet Blue:
Who, What, Where and How
Make two copies of the following multiple-choice questions, fill them out, and then exchange your hot homework. Check as many answers as you like, and feel free to fill in anything you feel is missing. In the next chapter you’ll find a plethora of specific roles and scenarios, but it’s important to have an idea of where you’d like to start. Feel free to fill these out again at a different time, or for new scenarios.
I’d like to be:
* In charge
* Someone who gets overpowered
* A submissive that turns the tables
My ideal predicament includes:
* Conflict with authority
* Getting caught
* Being made to do something naughty
In a scenario, I hope to:
* Be sexually “used” by you
* Get spanked or whipped
* Have my way with you
* Spank or whip you
* Have you take total control in bed
* Call all the shots when it comes to sex
———→ Lots more intriguing NSFW suggestions to be found here
This is exactly the sort of stuff that I read and think about a lot and then have to file away in my brain because it’s not going to be used any time soon. I suppose it goes with the same territory that browsing information about Hawai’i or Bora Bora go in… that would be the same dumb fantasy land where I actually go to these places with someone.
It’s getting to that time of year where people are asking me what i’m doing over the Summer break:
“Going anywhere nice? Doing anything exciting?”
I spent most of last week feeling grumpy. Yes, of course, I was my usual laughing-too-loudly self most of the time but there was an undertow of annoyance that ran through every single day.
The traffic was extra slow and heavy, the drivers extra retarded… My colleague was extra slow on the uptake when I was trying to help her (again) with accessing her emails and I felt like strangling members of my form more than usual. I was short of patience and short in remarks. Ugh.
Good things- I went to Tate Modern twice with Year 10 and no-one died or vandalised any artwork; I took my new pretty sandals out on the streets and felt a little bit dirty in doing so- Like a watered-down dose of the feeling i’d get if I ever had to wear a bikini in public. Not so much.
It was only my toes I was getting out and not my tits but it was still a milestone in the long and retarded saga that is releasing bits of flesh to the public. I remember the first time I really wore strappy vests out was my trip to New York with Leia Ewok Village- 2004 – That was an event…
So the sandals were comfortable for about an hour at least but then my skin softened and I ended up with some beautifully mangled patches of skin overlying my Achilles tendon. Lovely. At least if I wear plasters no-one can see them because of the backing of the sandal. Rock on.
I bought an interestingly shaped toy – the NSFW Layaspot – and discovered that although it is beautifully designed and engineered it simply wasn’t powerful enough for my particular needs. Not in any way enough bang for my buck, but at least it looks nice…
I spent a delightful evening in the company of a visiting Dave; I was very happy to see that she was looking so well (less of the ‘flu this time) and although her life is still very much on the shite side, things on the personal front at least are looking positive. Awesomeness.
On a whim I wore my yellow wedges- cue mucho hilarity when trying to hug her goodbye as like Caversham Princess she is afflicted with the shortness – though the genes of the shortness have expressed themselves much more acutely in Dave – I had to sort of squat down. It were most ladylike.
I spent the weekend trying to write a set of reports then actually doing so last thing on a Sunday evening; I also managed to accrue some reddened shoulders courtesy of me being dumb and forgetting to put any sunscreen on before I went and sat out in the garden. Duh. I have also not decided who if anyone I am supporting in Euro 2008.
Hopefully this week will be a little better and I will be less tired and therefore less grumpy; my brother is coming to visit for a couple of days and it will be super lovely to see him. Then on Saturday I am going to watch live-in-front-of-me wrestling… :D :D :D
skully pannacotta by chotda
I took the new pretty dress and the new pretty yet surprisingly comfortable shoes out into town and had an excellent evening; I managed to look like a slightly disordered traffic light with my shock of bright red hair, emerald green dress and yellow shoes. Slightly wrong but all good… I greatly enjoyed the albeit infrequent experience of wearing a big swirly dress and being a bit “girly”, and I must admit to liking the attention faking it gets me.
I managed to feel feminine and feel good about myself, not feeling too out of place or dorky, although I did feel a bit of a dumb arse when I kept falling off my bar stool before i’d even started drinking- I found it difficult to perch myself properly and safely when I couldn’t really see where I was parking myself due to the layers of my dress. I was sober. Honest.
As I repeatedly missed the bar stool whilst trying to sit as I waited for my caipirinha to be made (duh) the bartender asked me “You celebrating a special occasion this evening?” whilst eyeing up my dress and matching green eye makeup (rock on)… Nope, just out for dinner with MW#1, though I suppose given that I haven’t been out for such an outing for um, a year-and-a-motherfrakkin‘-half, it could indeed be classed as a special event. They should produce commemorative china.
Towards the end of dinner I got fed some pannacotta with summer fruits – Don’t think i’d had it before – It was good in a cool dairy sweet slimy kind of way :) By that time I was no longer sober and I found it quite easy to sit on my bar stool and not fall off. Makes sense.
My dress had quite an impact- Aside from my difficulties in mounting bar stools, comedy moment of the evening was when the lady dining next to us asked me where I got my dress from- Primark, £16 I beamed in reply. I’m so klassy. Among the compliments MW#1 paid me was that it suited me, me who so rarely feels feminine and feels more dork than hot.
I managed to continue the colour theme by wearing green satin knickers beneath the layers of net; he planted little kisses on my nose – I always love that, small though it be – and he helped me feel overly filled, nay flooded with well-being. My skin now smells deliciously of him and I know that I am not supposed to take such delight in this fact.
Town early morning post-Saturday night looked like it had been hit by a tornado- As I pondered along in a taxi I was amazed at the amount of rubbish I could see strewn across the streets. I suppose I shouldn’t really be surprised- This is after all the town where “No splash, no gash” is the unofficial motto for the purpose behind male personal grooming…
All-in-all I had a lovely evening out… It was sooo good to dress up, go out and feel appreciated for a little while. It was almost like old times- Almost in that there was less overt flirting and innuendo but more silences that to me at least passed totally comfortably (maybe he doesn’t feel similarly). I’m getting old…