If I were a boy

This is something which I have oddly enough pondered for years, and with no real answer. What would you do? That is, after leaping out of bed and exclaiming, “WOAHHH THERE’S A LOT MORE THERE, AND A LOT LESS THERE THAN I REMEMBER“? I finally have this planned out, or at least, I know the first thing I’d do.

Buy novelty cuff-links:

(So what if I’ve been on Etsy and eating cake when I should be studying Jurisprudence? You would too if you’d been studying H.L.A. Hart all day. Stop looking at me like that!)

I’d pull so many chicks with these. As all should know, girls pay great attention to miniscule details, and are sure to think it charming to have lego on your sleeves.

But I wouldn’t stop there. One of my lecturers has the most excellent taste in ties. As much as I love learning about defamation (easily more than Jurisprudence, at least*), I adore his ties even more. Each one is like an LSD explosion. If I was a guy, I’d wear psychedelic ties. I wouldn’t settle for any ordinary navy.

I’d also wear sweater vests, just because I know how much chicks also dig this. There is somebody, with whom (for once), I’m only slightly infatuated. He is insightful, intellectual, and makes the most wonderfully witty observations. He is at least forty. The day he wore a sweater vest I totez jizzed in my pants. If that is even possible. Let’s not try imagining it. Regardless, I definitely remember the sweater vest more than the actual lecture I was at.

For the record, I wouldn’t dare wear one with short sleeves. It makes me think of pot-bellied 50 year old men with shiny bald heads.

I’d also never visit 4chan again. Now, I’m cool being a girl who visits 4chan. While universally accepted that girls who read through 4chan’s misogyny threads are unattractive beasts, I accepted this fact long ago. But the male equivalent of myself is this monstrous basement-dwelling neckbeard, which I find even more appalling. So, no 4chan.

Even without it, I still probably wouldn’t be that attractive, since there’s something repulsive about perpetually nervous guys. I am not thinking a sex change would cure me of any social retardism. Damn.

Nonetheless! All this really makes me wish I had a boy to dress up. He’d be so stylish, and I’d be all “D’AWWW”. He would say silly things like, “NO I DON’T WANT TO WEAR THESE STUPID CUFF-LINKS”, to which I’d reply, “HUSHHH YOU LOOK SO DASHING” and pat his hair. I get very excited when I accompany someone to Hallensteins, though sadly my hopes are always crushed when I discover he has a strict sense of style. Obviously, this explains why I have to wait until I ~magically~ turn into a boy. Uh.

CutieSpotted

I really really really really love Dunedin, with its Overheard in Otago, and now its CutieSpotter, a most adorably sleazy concept.

A site letting people point out all the hotties? It’s amazing how suddenly this has taken taken off. Students (everyone!) have banded together, anonymously snooping around the campus to report the beauties – as well as the idiots. It’s like a secret club where everyone‘s a member. I’m not even sure how that works, but it’s so exciting.

I’ve started visiting this about as often as Facebook now:

Lolz. I didn’t post that by the way.

It is also with much pride that people from the Law Library are frequently being spotted. Last year I quietly noticed there were a lot of good looking people in my class, and someone who once tagged along to a lecture also pointed this out. I’m thinking attractiveness may be a factor in second year admissions.

Sort of makes sense when you combine Overheard and CutieSpotter, and realise Otago is essentially packed with really hot, but dumb, students. Bless.

Eeee, Chuck finale

I watched s03e18 of Chuck. The season finale’s next week, coinciding nicely with the end of this semester. The Buy More will explode. Big Mike will make sweet sweet love to his beloved Subway. And someone will die – most scandalous!

a). Chuck’s dad

Best case scenario: We get all worked up for nothing, and the plot line is furthered with worry over the fate of Chuck’s brain (DUN DUN DUNNNN). Cue everyone’s disappointment that no one important died in a most twisted anti-climax.

b). Casey

The promo trailer has Casey exclaiming, “ALEX YOU’RE MY DAUGHTER” – a wee detail I’m sure eeeveryone’s forgotten, but now sounds very foreboding. I don’t know why they’d bring her up unless it’s an attempt to increase the agony that is KILLING MY FAVOURITE CHARACTER HOW COULD YOUUU.

c). Ellie

Oh dear she’s being manipulated by evil people, etc, etc. It’s about as predictable as Chuck’s dad, but it’d carry more delicious angst. What a bonus!

d). Captain Awesome / Morgan

…The funny people can’t die, it’d ruin the show beyond all redemption. Besides, it’ll be someone super serious who broods as a hobby, ala The OC’s Marissa.

SARAH SHOULD DIE. (yeah i said it.)

1. A “major death” is so eerily similar to The OC season 3′s finale, and this is significant because Chuck and The OC share the same creator/producer-type folk. Any argument that Sarah can’t die as she’s too pivotal to the show fails because Marissa was too. It was as much Marissa and Ryan, as it is Chuck and Sarah! When Marissa died on The OC, she and Ryan were finally happy with each other, too.
2. At the end of the last episode she conveniently gave Chuck her will. Will he tearfully have to read it? Tragic!
3. The creators obviously hate Sarah anyway, since they decided her real name is ‘Sam’. What kind of name is that? Her name obviously should have more syllables! *rage*

I don’t think any of the above means anything though. Sadly. I just wish it did. Chuck/Sarah is only interesting when they’re pining. The drama that is Chuck lying to Sarah is a bland, pitiful replacement. I preferred it when she was important because she worked for the CIA. Not when the focus shifted and she became The Girlfriend (who occasionally fights).

Mostly I adore the idea that Sarah and Chuck are finally together, only for one of them to die. Anyone else dying would evoke mild discomfort (say, Ellie) to tear-my-hair-out grief (Casey). If Sarah dies, I’ll be laughing hard.

And just like The OC, I bet season 4 will be the last. Do you really thinks fans will forgive this, let alone campaign for a fifth? “Thanks for the support, we’re killing off your favourite character!”

Pfffft.

Two reasons

…why I’m quite happy about everything.

IN CASE ANYONE DOUBTED MY GENIUS

BEHOLD: This is how good I am at talking about ancient glass (HURRRRR).

I started writing that essay at 4pm and finished at 9am the next day, feeling invincible and slightly delirious – until a Jurisprudence lecture wiped me out. I’m hardcore.

<3 <3 <3

This is my prize for turning 21. I’ve wanted flowers for years, and was finally given the hugest (I don’t care if this isn’t a word) pinkest (nor this) bunch ever from the most awesome person I will ever know.

…I’d let you know about all the other astounding things that are happening to me, but man, you’d be so jealous/overwhelmed. I don’t want hate mail. No wait, I don’t care:

1. I get a sleep in on Thursday because of a cancelled class.
2. I (possibly) did well on a test yesterday. Give me more A+’s, they are delicious.
3. I bought mandarins for the first time. Also delicious.
4. I’m getting a cooler job at the Red Cross.
5. I got a little closer to enlightenment last night. Finally.
6. I’m about to eat a sandwich.

It’s incredible, I know.

My measly upbringing

Last week I turned 21. Of course, we should be celebrating the glorious woman who dealt with doctors the internet would deem “made of fail”. Thing is, when you turn 21, that’s 21 years of pain. Er. Parenting. The other half also deserves a lot of sympathy.

Except this is a review of my parents, and such niceness would be biased.

When reminiscing about our childhoods, I was told (twice!) “Your mum hated you!”. I insisted my parents spoiled me. I am trying, struggling, to remember why. The winning theory holds this is only because they’ve brainwashed me into believing them. I wasn’t allowed a Furby. Or a tamagotchi. Or a pony. Or Pokemon toys; I had to make my own out of pom-poms and pipe cleaners. I didn’t get chips or roll-ups in my lunch. I wasn’t allowed sleepovers.

In Year 8 I wasn’t allowed to learn violin. Apparently I’d get lazy. I feel like pointing out that later in the year I began studying Latin as an extra subject – I’m still studying it. Laziness? Bah! Years of wanting to learn piano also went ignored! The ukelele I bought this year was an act of rebellion; I was afraid my parents would be disappointed (no lie), that they’d scowl at me for wasting money as I’m capable only of laziness, not ~musical genius~. Instead I received how-to books for my birthday, with the words “I EXPECT YOU WILL BE ABLE TO PLAY WHEN YOU COME HOME“. Pretty cool.

I believe that is the only criticism I have. That, and they didn’t send me to a private school where everyone wore blazers dotted with dinky badges – even if I totez mocked those people. I feel like I missed out.

I never melodramtically declared they didn’t understand me and write terrible poetry about it. Surely this means they were doing something right. I didn’t rebel and do things without my parents’ knowledge. No wait. Once. I dropped Economics halfway through the year for Classics. They just thought it was funny I’d have eight exams at the end of the year.

The only major controversy the high school era brought was deciding on a university. Having finally convinced them that five years in Wellington would make for awesome times, I decided on Otago instead (the Dean was most charming on Open Day). I believe I was allowed to go on the condition that if I ever supported the Highlanders I’d be disowned. You wouldn’t believe how many months of persuading it took, only to change my mind. They must be relieved. Lucky parents.

My dad wins points for leaving notes around the house (“WE ATTACK AT DAWN. BE READY“). For a terrible sense of direction on Fridays after school, which inevitably meant we would “get lost” and need to seek “directions” at a dairy. For sometimes watching Top Gear with my sister and I. Not so much for firing water at me with a syringe, and claiming it was for my health. Or sneaking up and pouring water on my head…

My mum, for all the stories about her work in various law firms when I was little, which I suspect has had much influence. For being immeasurably proud of anything I did, be it rearranging furniture in my room or my single Merit in Year 12 Chemistry. For not letting me have an opinion without a good reason. For always having advice about anything. For listening to me talk and talk and talk (about nothing).

If I wanted a book, I got it. If I ran out of coke, I’d get more (teehee). I was allowed to see The Two Towers eight times in theatres, so I suppose they’ve been pretty good to me after all.

…But seriously, no Pokemon toys. Why was I so deprived.