Two "What The FIRETRUCK?!" moments in two days, yay

So, last night, my bed broke. And yes, I've heard all the sex jokes that can be made and have been made, so shut up. It's happened before, because the bed just falls apart whenever the hell it feels like, so the slats fall out and sometimes I'll just sit on it and it'll break, then I get a hammer and put it back together and it lasts another few months. Last night, more slats than ever fell out, so I couldn't even lie really still and just pretend, so I created a sortof cushion-pillow-beanbag-blanket arrangement on the floor, which was alarmingly comfortable, even if it looked like the world's most remarkably unsexy Turkish Hareem. Made slightly less sexy by the fact that I was asleep in the middle of it. Who needs sexy pyjamas when you've got old t-shirts and shorts? Someone who...wears sexy pyjamas probably.
Anyway, my other WHAT THE FIRETRUCK moment happened today in English. Me and Ayla are reading the same novel for assessment, and we were both working on whatever the hell it was we had to do. Anyway, I looked at Ayla's book on her desk, then looked at where my book should have been, but wasn't, then I thought "What the FIRETRUCK?! Where's my book?"
It was open in front of me.

BLOG TIME!

Why? Because I feel like it, not because I have something to blog about.
But the title reminded me of last year some time when I wrote "HUG TIME!" on pieces of paper and gave them to people. Why? I don't know. Anyway, one of them was stuck to a fan in the art room, but someone drew a spiral over it (the kind where you stand on the desk and hold your pen up to the fan to make a spiral). That was quite possibly the oddest insight into my life I've ever provided.

Driving: It's not a life skill, it's a competetion.

I went driving for the first time ever today.
Goddamn it's fun.
I found it ironic that I went down to the local housing estate to drive, when I'd gone to so many protests to keep it from being built (they knocked over most of a state forest/koala habitat to build it). But it's so damn useful, what with being deserted.
Now, I've heard that roundabouts are the most terrifying thing in the world for learner drivers, which they are at the moment (since I've never driven on a motorway or with other cars yet) and guess what the first thing I encountered was. That's right. A roundabout.
And there was a patch where I practiced reversing for a while, and I did so badly on my first try on this section, that on my second try, my mum just grabbed the steering wheel and said, "Okay, you work the pedals and I'll steer."
The one thing my mum didn't tell me, which I had to find out on my own, was that you have to accelerate up hills in order to maintain a constant speed. I didn't realise this until I started slowing down while going up a hill. The funny thing is that this was the exact thing that my granddad didn't tell her when she was driving.
I now have 65 minutes. Which is 35 minutes more than my cousin Michael, which is all that counts in the scheme of things.

meow.

I was going to put all this information into a vlog, but I feel really sick and the only speech I can manage is a sortof quiet mumble, which makes talking to my partially-deaf grandmother rather difficult.
My Acting Academy class last night was pretty cool, I nearly cried. It was in a scene, I'm not so masochistic that I can judge a day on how many times I burst into tears. The scene was entirely improvised but at a point in the scene, the teachers would pause it and give one or both of the actors an objective that was unbeknowenst to the other actor. Mine was to tell the other one that I'd found a picture of her, scantily clad, amongst the posessions of my boyfriend/husband. It ended with me telling her this, an arguement breaking out, and then her saying "I'm so sorry, I know you really like him..." and me saying "We've lived together for three years, I think I'm a bit beyond really liking him!"
After the class, I saw my cousin in a choir of sorts doing Verdi's Requiem at QPAC. That was a barrel of laughs (sarcasm), it went for an hour and a half. But I rather liked some of the more dramatic parts of it, they woke me up after I tuned out and started coreographing a fight scene/zombie attack scene that would take place in the room if all the doors suddenly locked. I found it ironic that the entire choir was grinning from ear to ear while singing about the day of judgement.
So, the silliness surrounding the Semi Formal escalated a little bit, in that it's a bit closer in the future and absolutely on everyone's respective minds. I'm already sick of the whole ordeal, and the actual night isn't until the end of term. Unfortunately, I've already got my dress, which means I lose a bit of...I can't think of what word I want...not-caring-ness-with-regards-to-conversations-about-dressing-up-and-being-shown-off-edness? But hey, it's a sortof gothic-medieval red dress, so if anything, I'll be the warmest girl there. My grandma doesn't seem too keen on it. First she was worried that people will laugh at me, and I explained to her that a) no they won't and b) the people who do laugh are the people who's opinions don't matter to me. Then she said that the person I'm going with might freak out at the prospect of dancing with a Shakespearean witch. At which point I explained to her that the person I'm going with knows I'm pretty much a nutjob and that if I'm to be expected to go through with this ordeal, I'll wear whatever the hell I please, and that I've already categorised most of the people and their reactions, these people will be the people who are indifferent or think my dress is awesome (my friends), people who will kick up a fuss and say it's not really the type of thing you're supposed to wear to the semi formal (the particularly bug-up-the-arse teachers) and the people for whom my dress will only be further proof that I'm a basket case and should be pulled apart with nasty words in sentences that don't follow traditional rules of grammatical convention (twats). And my cousin Terri wanted to contribute in some way, so she got me a nice necklace to go with it. Someone in year 12 (who is in fact a semi-professional makeup artist) offered to do my make up for $20. I politely rejected the offer, what with the fact that I'm probably the worst person ever to do the make up of. Not only will any mascara completely befoul my glasses, but Ayla learned the hard way to never do my make up, when my school was doing Grease the musical and she had to do my make up (on account of the fact that, at the time, I had NO IDEA how to do it for myself). Well, lets face it, she was sticking a pencil in my eye, of course I was going to blink madly. I've seen The Dark Knight, I know what happens when pencils and eyes get together.
Speaking of which, I've got 14 new badges for my guitar strap. Now, that wasn't a completely random segue, as one of the badges is the Joker. And you thought I'd gone mad.
Hmm..my mother appeared with a nice glass of mysterious, bubbly liquid, and it's made me feel a bit better, not to the point of talking, but to the point of thought.
Anyway, badges, I also got the four Hogwarts houses, a treble clef, The Fratellis, Nirvana, Edward Scissorhands, My Chemical Romance, Muse, The Dresden Dolls, Yellow Submarine and Gir from Invader Zim. I love that little guy.
I think I've run out of brain. I can't think of anything else that I've done lately.
In other news, I've got some pretty bad creative block at the moment, which is why my videos of late are a little bit crap.
And I don't really think this blog was worth typing, but hey, I think I'll post it.

Timelines

10-and-a-quarter years ago, I started primary school.
9 years ago, I was diagnosed with Diabetes.
7 years ago, I started drama.
1 year ago, I got my first competant drama teacher(s).
3 years ago, I stopped being underweight.
2 years ago, I started stressing about the fact that now that I was the reccomended weight, I was no longer skinny.
2 days ago, I saw the new Harry Potter trailer.
12 years ago, I started playing piano.
11 1/2 years ago, I stopped playing piano.
3 years ago, and to this day, I lamented that decision furiously.
1 year ago, I had another shot at piano, I'm not particularly good.
1 week ago, I finally figured out how to use the pedal.
3 years ago, Ayla introduced me to punk music.
2 years ago, I started playing guitar.
7 months ago, I gained a large amount of self-confidence.
4 months ago, I started izziesmagicalglasses, because I was sick of being NutcaseAlert.
5 months ago, I switched from Physics to Art.
2 months ago, I started year 11.
6 weeks ago, I saw Wicked.
5 weeks ago, I saw USQ Drama's The Tempest.
1 month ago, I saw the Tim Minchin show.
1 week ago, I saw The Boat That Rocked.
20 minutes ago, I started writing this very blog.
What have you done?

Bad things I did today...

1. Turned my cousin Terri on to a new drinking game (I know, one SHE'D never heard of)
2. Thought up a rather awful alternative acronym to SOHCAHTOA...maybe I'll tell you if you ask nicely...
3. Giggled during the ANZAC Day service

The last one requires explaination. I was PROVOKED! It's not my fault it was hilarious. And this time, it wasn't just me thinking something, there was something visually funny. So, my friend James is in the Air Force Cadets at school (I'm not sure what they do...go about being facists mostly...and yes, I am allowed to say that, because I tell him that ALL THE TIME), and being ANZAC Day (not exctly, but we had the service), three of the Cadets had to be the Flag Party. Dane with a sword for some reason, and James and Tayla with flags. What was funny was them holding the flags. The way they hold the flags is by resting one of the ends (the end without the flag) on their belt buckle. This made them look like they'd stuffed the flag down their pants and was just precariously balancing it there. I loled.

Please Explain

Right, so at my mum's place there are exactly zero people of the male...genre, and the only reason I phrased it that way, is to throw in an IT Crowd reference. So anyway. In this house of zero male influence, there are two bathrooms. One is my mum's ensuite, the other one is...the other one. The other bathroom is only used by me and my grandma. So, can somebody please explain to me how, in a bathroom used only by me and a 72-year-old woman, the TOILET SEAT CAN BE LEFT UP?!
Needless to say, it was an unpleasant experience, what with the fact that I don't go about noticing changes to the house (it once took me a whole month to notice that my mum tore up the front garden) and VERY NEARLY FELL IN.
So, there are two possible explainations. Grandma has been giggling all day at the thought of a small but worthwile prank, OR, she's seduced an old man and isn't telling anyone.
The first one is not only more likely (not to offend Grandma, just to say that all the old men in the area are either married or creepy), but alot less unnerving.

Friday Misadventures

Yay Friday.
Well, the day started by my mum waking me up far too early (8 AM) in order to take the test for my Learners' liscence, which I failed. Not by much, I got 8/10 on the first section (the minimum requirement is 9/10) and 19/20 on the second.
I was a bit pissed about that, but that's probably only because one of the "it crowd" (not to be confused with IT Crowd) bitches from school was there at the same time as me and PASSED. Which makes me wonder if the people get a sense of forboding when they give liscences to dickheads, or if they feel as though they've created a monster when they see hoons.
Anyway, I recieved a rather nice apology letter from the bank today, so nice that I didn't even get annoyed that they'd addressed the letter to "Miss Austin" when I've told them repetedly that they can either call me "Ms Austin" or go and shove their heads up their asses (my year 8 english teacher taught me pretty much the ENTIRE FEMINIST MOVEMENT and a bit's rubbed off, just enough to get pissed at "Miss Austin" and rant on about stuff...which I probably would do anyway...but not enough to be enormously decisive). The apology was for sending me a letter a few weeks ago (which my dad complained about, HUZZAH!) that said that I needed to give them $2000 by the end of the month and maintain a balance of at least $3000 or my tiny amount of money would be dissolved in fees. Turns out that it doesn't apply to people like me who have "STUDENT" written in big letters on their account.
I realised today that as good as my mum is at discerning when I'm being sarcastic, she's not perfect. I made a joke a few days ago about slimming down to fit into my dress for the Semi Formal (I was being sarcastic, I don't even have the bloody garment yet). I thought she hadn't taken me seriously, but she had. Awkwardness ensued, and yes, I am offended.
I also realised that I don't trust anyone else to make pizzas for me. Since my last disasterous experience with my mum's girlfriend saying "what do you want on your pizza?" and I said "oh, pretty much anything," assuming that she knew I meant anything within the bounds of a pizza topping. I was then served an enormous slice with not only your usual pizza toppings, salami, cheese, olives, etc. but broccoli, carrot and bean sprouts. That was the single worst pizza I've ever eaten. I was so disturbed by this that when my grandma offered to help me make a pizza tonight, I glared at her (of course, I apologised later). And incase your wondering, yes, it is a good pizza.
Throughout most of today, I've been thinking about reading Mao's Last Dancer for school, but not actually reading it. But the internet conked out three times today, so in its on little way, it was forcing me to.

Today

Well then. Right now I'm eating a rather awful kind of sugar free chocolate. It's the kind of thing you need alot of before it starts tasting good, but unfortunately if you eat alot of it, it acts as a laxative. Oh the many joys of diabetes.
Anyway, my day. I was going to meet up with most of my Acting Academy class, but only Claire and Myles turned up, and Myles was late, so Claire and I went to the South Bank markets for a while, where we made some new friends, a creepy juggling dude and an old woman in a badge tent. I got some new badges (which are on my Dailybooth) because I thought my guitar strap needed some revamping, it's looking a little bit underpopulated. So anyways, we went to the movies Claire dragged me and Myles into 17 Again, which was awful. One of those American movies that promote American Family Values, so it pissed me off on general principle. Also, it was a Zac Effron movie. Grr. And the plot was pretty bad. And also, they threw in a Harry Potter 3 reference to the part that was set in 1989, what the frick!
Anyway, we ended up all going off somewhere or other, and, while alone on a bus, trying to read, I ended up renewing my dislike of children. As a group of them sat behind me, shouting and screaming and kicking my chair and being small arseholes.
When I got home, my day got a bit funnier, as I got an email from Facebook saying that someone who I never really liked had asked me out via a wall comment, and upon inspecting my wall, I noticed that the entry had been hastily deleted. Lols ensued.

Quite Nice Friday

So, I got an email from my mum this morning, it said "Happy Jesus Got Nailed Day!"
Thanks mum, you've given me more to say than just "Happy Zombie Jesus Day!"

oh my god, facebook...

So, I was perusing the facebook sidebar when I came across this:

Okay, and I thought the internet couldn't sink any lower.

So of course I tried it out.

For purely satirical reasons.

But it turns out it's just the Vampire game.

Well, that was disappointing, I thought I could go on a rampage of hypothetical synacism, but there doesn't seem to be any call for that at this point.

But something I can say, which is completely off-topic, is this:

I was reading 'the book' (the one I should probably read a bit more of before going for my Learners) and it said that if you're driving along, minding your own business, and someone riding a horse comes along (and especially if the person doesn't look in control of the horse) then, in order to give way to the horse, you must pull over and STOP THE ENGINE, because that might frighten the horse. First of all, what's a person doing riding a horse as a mode of transport? Secondly, why are they doing this if they're not great at controlling the horse? Lastly, aren't cars faster than horses?

Speaking of horses, I found out a rather disappointing fact these last Christmas holidays. Now, this fact begins when I was 10, and my grandma told me that horse farts were green. Now, I don't usually take things she says seriously, but one of my friends was rather horse-mad, so I held on to this fact in order to piss her off, but part of me believed it. And on these Christmas holidays, I found out it wasn't true. That's probably the stupidest thing I've ever done, listening to my grandmother. So there's a lesson in that, never listen to anyone. Especially if they're talking out their arse, no pun intended.

INTERESTING TITLE!

So, I've cheered up since last blog.
But the thing is, I probably have a problem, and my problem is thus. I can't stop acquiring books.
I'm about three quarters into Watchmen (and LOVING it), then I've got to read Mao's Last Dancer for school, then 48 Shades of Brown and maybe Joel and Kat Set The Story Straight because they're library books (which I didn't want to borrow, but the english teacher is a dominatrix who wants people to do some "wider reading"). Now, this doesn't seem too bad, except for the fact that I REALLY WANT TO READ PAPER TOWNS and I have to read it before Ayla does, because she's not a NerdFighter. Then I've got all the books I got from my grandma for my birthday, namely Of Mice And Men, One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Perfume: The Story Of A Murderer, A Clockwork Orange, and A Picture of Dorian Grey.
And then I got another book today. A book of one-liners. I do so love one-liners. Advanced Banter: The QI Book of Quotations. QI is a fantastic show, it's hard to find, but FIND IT! It's a good one.
And I've just noticed the two books my Aunty Carol got me for my birthday, The Declaration and The Resistance. Bloody hell.

Cross Country

Today at the cross country carnival (which involved running IN HEAVY RAIN...I stepped in a puddle...it was deeper than anticipated...) I learned about the stages of getting rained on.

1. Not putting umbrella up, it's not raining that hard.
2. Putting your umbrella up, just in case.
3. Huddling under umbrella and hoping you don't get wet.
4. Taking off your watch in hopes that you can keep it dry.
5. Hoping you don't get ludicrously wet.
6. Lamenting straightening hair.
7. Discarding umbrella, there is no longer any point to it, you're wet enough.
8. Hoping your underwear doesn't get wet.
9. Hoping your underwear dries quickly.
10. The stage where you're so wet it actually feels nice.
11. It's wet, it's cold, it's horrible.
12. Contemplating selling your soul for a towel.
13. And a change of clothes.
14. Your shoes fill with water and slosh when you move.
15. Contemplating selling a friend's soul for a hairdryer, not just for your hair, but to see if you can get most of the fluid out of your shoes.
16. It's stopped raining, a sense of hope fills your soul.
17. It starts raining again.

Yep. I went through all those stages somewhere between 9:30 and 12 today. Not a great day.

But it's the Easter holidays now. Two weeks off.