Things I Learnt From The First Week Back At Uni:
1. Parking went up 10%.
2. The law faculty consists of over-groomed boys who don't quite meet the requisites for the classification of 'eye candy'. Unless they are under 50 k.g and appear to be suffering from malnutrition, in which case they meet Kristine's criteria...
(Being the mature, un-judgemental people that we are, we have been using an eye-candy rating system out of 10 in our first week, so Torts was a 5/10 and Constitutional was apparently a 2/10. What a bust.)
3. "Spanish men are not shy about adjusting their...equipment...in public." (Spanish lecturer taking my class on Hispanic culture and society.) So apparently we should not be alarmed at the sight of an Hispanic man with his hand down his trousers "to make sure that everything's where it should be."
4. Spanish people seem to have a preoccupation with testicles. Although you might have gathered that from No. 3.
5. Tort law is a glorified version of the Blame Game, except it's only fun when the person you're blaming is loaded with money. (Otherwise it's like taking candy away from a diabetic baby.)
6. My English tutor for Fiction Writing was my old Year Seven/Eight teacher, back in the days when I was a wee lass starting high school. Awkwardness.
7. Asian people CAN make good coffee. Sometimes.
8. My Spanish teacher makes the word 'Senorita' sound sexier than when Justin Timberlake says it. Which is really saying something, since aforementioned teacher has at least a decade on JT and is not quite so attractive.
9. If you do Neuroanatomy, your textbook will be packaged with a 12-PACK OF CRAYOLA PENCILS for you to colour the different sections of the brain. Which is why we offered to do April's homework for her :D
Friday, February 29, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Movie Review: "Jumper"
I saw 'Jumper' last night.
It was terrible.
Really, really bad. (This being the general definition of 'terrible'...)
I'd been really looking forward to it, since it had all the makings of a good sci-fi/action movie- teleporting, lots of explosions, and Hayden Christensen.
However, it was as if fifteen people had all sat down, thought of one scene each without consulting the other, then patched it all together in a random editing sequence.
IT HAD NO PLOT.
And by this I mean '27 Dresses' had a better plot. Linear and predictable though it was, it still had a basic plot. Unlike Jumper, which literally did 'jump' around from scene to scene, leaving many unresolved plotlines and with a black hole where character development should have been.
And I had hoped that Hayden Christensen would finally shake off the abysmal acting of Star Wars: Episode II (Episode Three not being quite so bad) and prove that he could actually act.
Unfortunately, his role in Jumper consisted of three facial expressions- Happy Anakin. Sad Anakin. And Angry Anakin.
Rachel Bilson wasn't much better, as I spent the whole time looking at her going, "Weren't you NOT THAT THIN in the O.C?'
Even Samuel L. Jackon's coolness was totally wasted. It was hands-down the stupidest movie I have seen all summer. Not only did it not have a plot, it didn't even make any sense- if you've watched it and seen the ending, you'll understand the sheer idiocy of it and the total lack of any plot explanation.
I saw it with my friend Alice, and admittedly, we were kinda hoping to just sit there and perv on Mr Christensen, but his shirt was off for a grand total of seven seconds. And he had all the charisma and acting ability of a plank of wood. At the end of the movie, we were just so utterly dazed by the ridiculousness of it all that we couldn't actually comment on the movie itself, just the weirdness of it all.
So yeah...keep your $12 and go see Alvin and the Chipmunks or something.
It was terrible.
Really, really bad. (This being the general definition of 'terrible'...)
I'd been really looking forward to it, since it had all the makings of a good sci-fi/action movie- teleporting, lots of explosions, and Hayden Christensen.
However, it was as if fifteen people had all sat down, thought of one scene each without consulting the other, then patched it all together in a random editing sequence.
IT HAD NO PLOT.
And by this I mean '27 Dresses' had a better plot. Linear and predictable though it was, it still had a basic plot. Unlike Jumper, which literally did 'jump' around from scene to scene, leaving many unresolved plotlines and with a black hole where character development should have been.
And I had hoped that Hayden Christensen would finally shake off the abysmal acting of Star Wars: Episode II (Episode Three not being quite so bad) and prove that he could actually act.
Unfortunately, his role in Jumper consisted of three facial expressions- Happy Anakin. Sad Anakin. And Angry Anakin.
Rachel Bilson wasn't much better, as I spent the whole time looking at her going, "Weren't you NOT THAT THIN in the O.C?'
Even Samuel L. Jackon's coolness was totally wasted. It was hands-down the stupidest movie I have seen all summer. Not only did it not have a plot, it didn't even make any sense- if you've watched it and seen the ending, you'll understand the sheer idiocy of it and the total lack of any plot explanation.
I saw it with my friend Alice, and admittedly, we were kinda hoping to just sit there and perv on Mr Christensen, but his shirt was off for a grand total of seven seconds. And he had all the charisma and acting ability of a plank of wood. At the end of the movie, we were just so utterly dazed by the ridiculousness of it all that we couldn't actually comment on the movie itself, just the weirdness of it all.
So yeah...keep your $12 and go see Alvin and the Chipmunks or something.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Soap!
I have a weakness for luxury soaps.
It's not an addiction or anything, but I just find the idea of spending $4, $10 or $20 on a bar of soap kind of odd- it's not something I'd normally think to buy if someone gave me $10. But I like soap. And when someone gives me good soap, it's quite exciting. And yes, I'm fully aware of the fact that that was an absolutely pathetic statement, but y'know, someone people get their thrills from sky-diving, some people get their thrills from drag-racing, and IF I HAPPEN TO GET MY THRILLS FROM SOAP THEN THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT.
Well, actually there is something wrong (and lame) about that, but let's just pretend that there isn't and move on, shall we?
...
Anyhow...I got this 'Calming' lavender soap for Christmas in a pretty shiny mauve box, and the lovely round cake of soap inside was a soft lavender colour wrapped in tissue and encircled with a pretty purple ribbon...except I ripped all that nice pacakging off with my fingernails because I had to scrabble for it in the bathroom drawer in the middle of my shower, when I realised that the cheap 5-for-$2 Palmolive soap I'd scabbed from my parents' bathroom had withered away.
And I know that it's probably some kind of placebo soap effect, but I do feel calmer. And I smell like lavender and citrus.
I just hope that this lovely soap was not scrounged from whale by-products, because then I would be smelling like lavender, citrus and the innocent blood of practically sentient aquatic mammals.
I don't condone Greenpeace's methods, which are illegal and completely irresponsible, but at least they're bloody well doing something, unlike our little Government boat, which just follows around like a little puppy going, "Please sir, perhaps you might like to cease murdering those whales? Or....not? That's...that's ok, we'll just follow on behind sir, carry on..."
On a totally random note, SOAP also happens to be the acronym for a super-cool movie, Snakes on a Plane.
Ahhh, will the wonders of soap never cease?!
It's not an addiction or anything, but I just find the idea of spending $4, $10 or $20 on a bar of soap kind of odd- it's not something I'd normally think to buy if someone gave me $10. But I like soap. And when someone gives me good soap, it's quite exciting. And yes, I'm fully aware of the fact that that was an absolutely pathetic statement, but y'know, someone people get their thrills from sky-diving, some people get their thrills from drag-racing, and IF I HAPPEN TO GET MY THRILLS FROM SOAP THEN THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT.
Well, actually there is something wrong (and lame) about that, but let's just pretend that there isn't and move on, shall we?
...
Anyhow...I got this 'Calming' lavender soap for Christmas in a pretty shiny mauve box, and the lovely round cake of soap inside was a soft lavender colour wrapped in tissue and encircled with a pretty purple ribbon...except I ripped all that nice pacakging off with my fingernails because I had to scrabble for it in the bathroom drawer in the middle of my shower, when I realised that the cheap 5-for-$2 Palmolive soap I'd scabbed from my parents' bathroom had withered away.
And I know that it's probably some kind of placebo soap effect, but I do feel calmer. And I smell like lavender and citrus.
I just hope that this lovely soap was not scrounged from whale by-products, because then I would be smelling like lavender, citrus and the innocent blood of practically sentient aquatic mammals.
I don't condone Greenpeace's methods, which are illegal and completely irresponsible, but at least they're bloody well doing something, unlike our little Government boat, which just follows around like a little puppy going, "Please sir, perhaps you might like to cease murdering those whales? Or....not? That's...that's ok, we'll just follow on behind sir, carry on..."
On a totally random note, SOAP also happens to be the acronym for a super-cool movie, Snakes on a Plane.
Ahhh, will the wonders of soap never cease?!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Reign of Terror
I am currently acting as assistant manager at my workplace.
This is not because of some predatory desire to climb the ranks of retail glory. Nor is it borne out of any benevolent willingness to help out the company.
It is simply because my assistant manager is a twat.
The girl walked out on the job two weeks before her official resignation date.
I generally try not to judge people too harshly, given that I'm aware she had some boyfriend/family issues going on in her life, but she could at least have waited two weeks before lumping all her responsibilities onto my puny little shoulders.
I wasn't just the default choice- I was the only choice (our normal 31C is on much-deserved annual leave, and if you even mention the word 'overtime' to the other full-timer she's already out the door). And desperate times call for desperate measures, so my boss gave me a crash course in procedural admin and handed me a key.
I have mixed feelings about this quasi-promotion. On one hand, it's really good management experience. I've made so many mistakes in the space of only one week, but both boss and colleagues have been ridiculously patient. On the other hand, I'm still getting only $12.23 an hour and that is blatant exploitation.
Admittedly, it's been good to not have to focus on the sales so much- I get other people to run around doing that- but the overtime you have to put in is ridiculous. The tills were $100 down the other night, and I ended up staying 1 1/2 hours overtime counting out $200 in change. It was truly a teeth-gritting experience.
However, I did have a happy time one morning when the man who fills up the candy machine came up to us and gave us 20 cents each to be his candy machine 'testers', and one particular morning where I sat in the quiet stillness of the back office with a Sausage and Egg McMuffin and a latte and pondered on the absolute wonders of Sausage and Egg McMuffins and the state of the world in general.
(Breakfast muffins with weird sausage meat induce a hallucenogenic state when I ingest them.)
I also have more of a say in the inner workings of the store- to give all credit to my boss, he isn't treating me like a fill-in manager, and actually values whatever lame contribution I come up with. The other day he called me in to ask my advice on what kind of television to order in for the store- my boss was considering another plasma, but I pointed out to him the ridiculous power consumption of the average 42" plasma (roughly 350W) and so upon my advice, he ordered in a 40" Sony Bravia LCD. (I sincerely hope it sells, otherwise he'll never take my advice again :P)
Although quite frankly, I'd also had my fill of plasmas after crawling into the back seat of a customer's Honda Civic trying to pull the damn thing through. Owww.
I have one and a half weeks left of responsibility, but when this is over I'll be happy to crawl back into my little part-time niche. I'm almost looking forward to starting uni again just so I can get out of iPod Land and back into my little uni life. Because Property Law is like, so exciting. *snort*
This is not because of some predatory desire to climb the ranks of retail glory. Nor is it borne out of any benevolent willingness to help out the company.
It is simply because my assistant manager is a twat.
The girl walked out on the job two weeks before her official resignation date.
I generally try not to judge people too harshly, given that I'm aware she had some boyfriend/family issues going on in her life, but she could at least have waited two weeks before lumping all her responsibilities onto my puny little shoulders.
I wasn't just the default choice- I was the only choice (our normal 31C is on much-deserved annual leave, and if you even mention the word 'overtime' to the other full-timer she's already out the door). And desperate times call for desperate measures, so my boss gave me a crash course in procedural admin and handed me a key.
I have mixed feelings about this quasi-promotion. On one hand, it's really good management experience. I've made so many mistakes in the space of only one week, but both boss and colleagues have been ridiculously patient. On the other hand, I'm still getting only $12.23 an hour and that is blatant exploitation.
Admittedly, it's been good to not have to focus on the sales so much- I get other people to run around doing that- but the overtime you have to put in is ridiculous. The tills were $100 down the other night, and I ended up staying 1 1/2 hours overtime counting out $200 in change. It was truly a teeth-gritting experience.
However, I did have a happy time one morning when the man who fills up the candy machine came up to us and gave us 20 cents each to be his candy machine 'testers', and one particular morning where I sat in the quiet stillness of the back office with a Sausage and Egg McMuffin and a latte and pondered on the absolute wonders of Sausage and Egg McMuffins and the state of the world in general.
(Breakfast muffins with weird sausage meat induce a hallucenogenic state when I ingest them.)
I also have more of a say in the inner workings of the store- to give all credit to my boss, he isn't treating me like a fill-in manager, and actually values whatever lame contribution I come up with. The other day he called me in to ask my advice on what kind of television to order in for the store- my boss was considering another plasma, but I pointed out to him the ridiculous power consumption of the average 42" plasma (roughly 350W) and so upon my advice, he ordered in a 40" Sony Bravia LCD. (I sincerely hope it sells, otherwise he'll never take my advice again :P)
Although quite frankly, I'd also had my fill of plasmas after crawling into the back seat of a customer's Honda Civic trying to pull the damn thing through. Owww.
I have one and a half weeks left of responsibility, but when this is over I'll be happy to crawl back into my little part-time niche. I'm almost looking forward to starting uni again just so I can get out of iPod Land and back into my little uni life. Because Property Law is like, so exciting. *snort*
Monday, February 4, 2008
Honesty. Brutal, brutal, honesty. *Rant Warning*
I shouldn't have picked up the phone.
There was a call flashing on my mobile- a private number- and even though I had misgivings, I figured it might be a friend or family member calling from a foreign phone.
So I picked it up.
Unfortunately, the voice on the other end was the one person I've been trying to avoid- and had been successfully avoiding, I might add, for about three months.
To put it simply...I am a bitch.
I could've probably said, a long time ago, that I didn't really want to be friends. I could have just stopped it then, but I have problems with saying 'no'. Instead, I took the 'bitch' route, where I just ignored every e-mail, call and SMS, thinking that maybe this would just cut this person off from my life. Person in question is...I'm not sure what to call him. A friend? An overzealous acquaintance? Whatever he is, I suspect him of wanting more than a friendship, although I'm so inexperienced in these matters that I really can't tell. I suppose repeatedly inviting me out for a drink is a symptom of that. But the last time this happened with someone, I kept ignoring it until I got a text suggesting a movie and dinner, and then I freaked out completely, snapped off a quick and apologetic "I-had-no-idea-you-wanted-a-date-', received the most lovely and courteous response, and never heard from him again.
And you know what? I felt like a bitch.
Saying 'no' to anyone is hard. I can't possibly imagine how hard it must be to ask someone out, so it tears out my guts to say 'no' to a guy (thankfully it is VERY rarely that I get asked so that's OK). But going back to this phone conversation, he did ask me whether or not I was avoiding him, given that I'd ignored every single attempt at communication for three months.
And you know what I did? I lied.
I couldn't face the thought of hurting anyone's feelings that much, even though I probably deserved to suffer that, so I lied. Lied lied lied. No, of course I wasn't avoiding you. Yes, I rarely use my phone, and don't check my e-mail. You know, work and all has been so demanding for, y'know, the past nine weeks...
And that's what's so difficult about relationships of any kind. At my workplace, I have several colleagues- and even though I truly do not like several of them, I keep up the pretense that I do. Again, a lie. However, I am somewhat excused by the fact that I work with these people day in, day out, and it IS imperative that I get along well with them. Which I do. I just don't like them.
There is one person whom I work with who I particularly do not like- I refuse to expend any energy on 'hate' because it is an unproductive waste of time and emotion- but I dislike her for the fact that not only does she have an inferiority complex which makes her constantly talk herself up all the time, she is also jealous of me (or my position, although WHY you would covet being in my work role is a mystery) and that simply annoys me.
Fine, honey, talk yourself up all you want, but if you constantly hang over my shoulder trying to point out mistakes and undermine me, THEN I get pissed off.
And yet, she believes that we are friends. I have never given her reason to believe otherwise. Which makes me quite the hypocrite.
It's all about the masks we wear, the varied fronts we present to our friends, to our family, to our colleagues, even to customers. I think sometimes I can get a little too manically happy-looking at work whenver I present my 'HELLOOOOOOO CAN I HELP YOU?' front, which collapses as soon as I get in the front door at home and put my feet up. But whenever I see my friends, it's always a huge mood lift.
As my friend Kris so eloquently put it, there are people that you are sure that you will love for the rest of your life. To me, there is nothing sweeter than finding a friend with whom you can share exactly what you are thinking- unfiltered and unedited. Blogging is personal, but in a way it's also contrived in that you can twist your words and hide behind the shield of language. My favourite bloggers (Rosy, Kris and Jenai) are wonderful because they tell their own stories in a unique way, with everything included, nothing left out. As someone once said (George Orwell perhaps?), beware the man who writes his autobiography with no accounts of his own failure, humiliation or shame.
Although I love going to meet people in groups, it's the one-on-one outings that I also treasure. Most of them involve coffee or chocolate of some kind- and that, in my opinion, is one of the best ways to get to know someone. Because there's no one else around that would cause you to put that front up- the only thing between you and that other person is a sweetened latte.
(Or a chocolate lick. And a croissant. And an Italian hot chocolate. And maybe some gourmet handmade chocolates to boot.)
I guess there's a time and place for honesty. And thanks to that guy's phone call at 10:30 p.m, I now have lost precious sleep time. I have half a mind to send a brutally honest e-mail tomorrow, just because I don't think I can keep up the pretense of this any longer.
I feel morally pathetic. And sleep-deprived.
Tomorrow, I shall face the world with a giant vat of sweetened barista coffee, which always does wonders.
There was a call flashing on my mobile- a private number- and even though I had misgivings, I figured it might be a friend or family member calling from a foreign phone.
So I picked it up.
Unfortunately, the voice on the other end was the one person I've been trying to avoid- and had been successfully avoiding, I might add, for about three months.
To put it simply...I am a bitch.
I could've probably said, a long time ago, that I didn't really want to be friends. I could have just stopped it then, but I have problems with saying 'no'. Instead, I took the 'bitch' route, where I just ignored every e-mail, call and SMS, thinking that maybe this would just cut this person off from my life. Person in question is...I'm not sure what to call him. A friend? An overzealous acquaintance? Whatever he is, I suspect him of wanting more than a friendship, although I'm so inexperienced in these matters that I really can't tell. I suppose repeatedly inviting me out for a drink is a symptom of that. But the last time this happened with someone, I kept ignoring it until I got a text suggesting a movie and dinner, and then I freaked out completely, snapped off a quick and apologetic "I-had-no-idea-you-wanted-a-date-', received the most lovely and courteous response, and never heard from him again.
And you know what? I felt like a bitch.
Saying 'no' to anyone is hard. I can't possibly imagine how hard it must be to ask someone out, so it tears out my guts to say 'no' to a guy (thankfully it is VERY rarely that I get asked so that's OK). But going back to this phone conversation, he did ask me whether or not I was avoiding him, given that I'd ignored every single attempt at communication for three months.
And you know what I did? I lied.
I couldn't face the thought of hurting anyone's feelings that much, even though I probably deserved to suffer that, so I lied. Lied lied lied. No, of course I wasn't avoiding you. Yes, I rarely use my phone, and don't check my e-mail. You know, work and all has been so demanding for, y'know, the past nine weeks...
And that's what's so difficult about relationships of any kind. At my workplace, I have several colleagues- and even though I truly do not like several of them, I keep up the pretense that I do. Again, a lie. However, I am somewhat excused by the fact that I work with these people day in, day out, and it IS imperative that I get along well with them. Which I do. I just don't like them.
There is one person whom I work with who I particularly do not like- I refuse to expend any energy on 'hate' because it is an unproductive waste of time and emotion- but I dislike her for the fact that not only does she have an inferiority complex which makes her constantly talk herself up all the time, she is also jealous of me (or my position, although WHY you would covet being in my work role is a mystery) and that simply annoys me.
Fine, honey, talk yourself up all you want, but if you constantly hang over my shoulder trying to point out mistakes and undermine me, THEN I get pissed off.
And yet, she believes that we are friends. I have never given her reason to believe otherwise. Which makes me quite the hypocrite.
It's all about the masks we wear, the varied fronts we present to our friends, to our family, to our colleagues, even to customers. I think sometimes I can get a little too manically happy-looking at work whenver I present my 'HELLOOOOOOO CAN I HELP YOU?' front, which collapses as soon as I get in the front door at home and put my feet up. But whenever I see my friends, it's always a huge mood lift.
As my friend Kris so eloquently put it, there are people that you are sure that you will love for the rest of your life. To me, there is nothing sweeter than finding a friend with whom you can share exactly what you are thinking- unfiltered and unedited. Blogging is personal, but in a way it's also contrived in that you can twist your words and hide behind the shield of language. My favourite bloggers (Rosy, Kris and Jenai) are wonderful because they tell their own stories in a unique way, with everything included, nothing left out. As someone once said (George Orwell perhaps?), beware the man who writes his autobiography with no accounts of his own failure, humiliation or shame.
Although I love going to meet people in groups, it's the one-on-one outings that I also treasure. Most of them involve coffee or chocolate of some kind- and that, in my opinion, is one of the best ways to get to know someone. Because there's no one else around that would cause you to put that front up- the only thing between you and that other person is a sweetened latte.
(Or a chocolate lick. And a croissant. And an Italian hot chocolate. And maybe some gourmet handmade chocolates to boot.)
I guess there's a time and place for honesty. And thanks to that guy's phone call at 10:30 p.m, I now have lost precious sleep time. I have half a mind to send a brutally honest e-mail tomorrow, just because I don't think I can keep up the pretense of this any longer.
I feel morally pathetic. And sleep-deprived.
Tomorrow, I shall face the world with a giant vat of sweetened barista coffee, which always does wonders.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
To Put It In Perspective...
A colleague and I were discussing wages after work- my colleague whined about having her $20/hr casual rate cut down to $15 part-time, and I countered that I first got $9.65 when I started- and then my boss simply said, "Please don't complain about wages- when I worked at Hungry Jack's, I got $5.50 an hour."
That shut us up good.
So there you go. Not a peep of whinginess from now on- at least until I forget all about that anecdote.
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