If I Were Bridget Jones

If I were Bridget Jones then yesterday’s diary entry would look something a little like this:

Monday 29 October

Weight: don’t know as don’t have scales in house (good for self-esteem). Alcohol units: 0 (very good). Cigarettes: 0 (as don’t smoke). Caffeine units: 4 (fair). Negative thoughts: 52 (all on topic of life and talents being wasted learning torts etc). Hours of study: 4.5 rounded up (bad).

8am alarm goes off, curse the world and roll out of bed. Catch glimpse of self in mirror and consider rolling back into bed. Remember hunger. Go to kitchen.

8.26am settle onto couch to watch morning news in an effort to become more enlightened.

9.01am make third cup of tea and resolve to start study.

9.06am remember friend’s birthday, must find hilarious images of world’s favourite cat (Hello Kitty) to post onto her Facebook timeline.

9.22am Four Hello Kitty Pictures down and I am going to study.

10.05am have definitely deserved a snack.

10.45am have definitely deserved another snack. Make popcorn.

10.52am whole container of popcorn eaten. Study resumes.

11.30am get out of pyjamas in order to drag butt to gym.

1.02pm return from gym after a mildy successful Abs Buns and Thighs class where I was definitely wasn’t the biggest loser there (yusssssss!) and as always there were no hotties in the gym. But I found myself staring at this guy who I know is not that cute in an effort to detract brain from burning thighs. Feel that perhaps standards are sinking out of desperation and perhaps hallucinations from lack of oxygenated blood to brain?

1.24pm Out of shower, just got dressed into super comfy study gear. Flatmate’s cute brother shows up, curse self for wearing unattractive trackpants complete with bloodstain on the pocket and longjohns underneath, thus making bottom look particularly saggy, ironic as have just been to ABT class.

2.17pm Flatmate’s brother leaves after a long yarn, in which he asked me if there were any boys on the scene. Ugh. The singleton’s most hated question, especially coming from people in relationships, as this young man is. Spin usual spiel about loving the single life not wanting to lower standards for the sake of having someone to keep me warm at night etc etc.  Make cup of tea number four. Study resumes.

3.15pm afternoon tea time.

4.12pm Time to do some internet trawling to find Babe of the Day to post to friendship group Facebook group, as self-designated Babe of the Day poster during the entirety of the exam period, I take my job very seriously and ensure that only the hottest guys make the cut. Hard work deciding who to use today.

5.32pm Retire from desk for the day, go upstairs to make dinner.

10.56pm Making a risotto (perhaps the most time consuming of dishes) and then having visit from friend meant no more work. Maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow.

Renee Zellweger as Bridget Jones

Sharing and Caring

Inspiration is still low.

It’s getting a bit awkward.

So just going to hit you all with someone else’s work for the sake of consistency of output.

There’s been a lot of internet trawling going on between study and I’ve come across some gems, this one was sent by a friend. Here are the Franco brothers. If you don’t know James Franco, you must live under a rock. He is multi-talented actor, writer, producer, director with a degrees from Yale, Columbia and Rhode Island School of Design and he lives with this two cats (which is actually rather weird when you’re this hot). Turns out, there’s another Franco and this interview is just a little bit gorgeous. It’s a bit of family time in the middle of a crazy busy life (self-imposed so I’m maintaining my no-sympathy-for-celebrities stance). It’s in five parts, here is the first. Enjoy your Sunday, I’ll be getting back to the books.

List – 8 Questions

I’m low on inspiration, which is further proof that studying the law sucks out your soul, but also it’s study break so I’ve actually been kind of studying. I didn’t write yesterday because when you spend all morning in a revision session and all afternoon staring at your notes, not much goes on between the ears.

So this morning, as I sat in the library, my brain did it’s usual good job of getting curious about every possible other thing than my notes, which is not really surprising when they read things like “A K is a K, LTA doesn’t prevent Privity of K from retaining Eq rights in personam” see? Jibberish

10 8 questions from level 6 of the library (I was aiming for 10 but my brain wouldn’t even do that):

  1. Popcorn, carb or vege? It’s used like a carb but it comes from corn, how troublesome and this girl was eating some and I could smell it.
  2. How many litres of good tea could you make from one teabag? I’m running really low on tea bags but I don’t want to go and buy another box of a hundred when I’m only here for two more weeks.
  3. Why is everyone so into cupcakes? They are really nice, but they’re such a fad, why aren’t people freaking out over Baked Alaska or something?
  4. How old are you before you stop worrying about being naked in the changing rooms? I had a wee nudie moment in the gym changing rooms this week, noone was around so it was fine, but then I got all freaked out that there would be security cameras or something and was embarassed for the next hour.
  5. Which parent can I persuade to pay for my Black Keys ticket?I owe my brother money for it and I’m wondering which part of the parental unit will be ok with me citing “sibling bonding” as the reason I need $90.
  6. When is someone going to remove the sparrow from level 6 of the library? It’s been there all week and although it’s entertaining when it startles some unexpected studier, I’m worried it’s spreading plague or something.
  7. If I’ve done enough study to pass, why can’t I stop? This dreadful waste of time between a C+ and a B is really not worth it is it, but my sub-conscious guilts me into it anyway.
  8. Why is the guy next to me reading a book entitled “Self-Esteem and Learning a Foreign Language”? Has someone really written a whole book about that?? And what’s the verdict? Is it good for your self-esteem?

Let’s you and I both pray I’ve got something better by next time.

Friend of the Blog #5 – Sam Stern

Many aeons ago, before I left home, I had this boyfriend who decided that he would do all the necessary cooking in our relationship. He also let me wear the pants and choose the playlists so it was an all-round good deal (actually, why did I break up with him???).

Let’s just say, I wasn’t the most confident in the kitchen. I’d never had to be. An endless stream of after-school activities had meant that I’d never had to cook at home and my brother had enough culinary flair for the both of us if Mum and Dad decided to spontaneously delegate. I wasn’t hopeless, I just wasn’t interested in anything other than the eating bit.

In stepped Sam. If I had to take one physical possession from this life to the next, I’m pretty sure Sam Stern’s Student Cookbook would be it. Gifted to me the year I went flatting, it has got the smeared pages and watermarked words of a book that has seen so many flat dinners it has worked harder than Richie McCaw. If you have a recipe question, Sam will answer it, if you don’t have a certain ingredient, Sam will offer a substitute, if you’re cooking for someone with a special dietary requirement, Sam will give you modifications. Sam has a recipe for whatever you have in your pantry. Seriously. There is even recipes in here for mussels, bulgar wheat and all manner of healthy staples to get you through the year, budget in check.

This ode to Sam came after I made a cake this evening in our flat’s oven which is so terrible (so terrible in fact, it once took an hour and a half to bake a banana loaf). I am also impeded in the baking department by my lack of attention to detail which really doesn’t bode well for exact recipes. As my cake rose, I looked at the book and asked out loud (the neighbours already think I’m a weirdo so it’s no biggie) “Sam you god, do you perchance know the answer to the meaning of life?” I don’t know what I was expecting, he didn’t reply. But for someone as gastronomically obsessed as I am, maybe this cheeky Pom does.

Sam Stern, let’s be friends xx

Sam Stern

Missing Out

While we’re on the topic of technology, I’ve got two friends who, it is safe to say, are very keen on (possibly addicted to?) a photo-publishing app that shall not be named but was recently bought by a social media sight that also shall not be named for a mere $1 billion (USD). Every social event results in pictures on their phones and this has caused perhaps the first serious disagreement of opinion between us. Basically, I am absolutely adverse to cellphones being used for non-emergency purposes at social events (for clarification, an ’emergency’ is any text or call from a parent because they freak when you don’t reply promptly and any news regarding the death of a loved one, that is all). I find it insulting and rude when my friends would rather communicate with someone else that me, who is right there in front of them. And I seriously don’t give a rats about a photo of what Kim Kardashian had for dinner.

The most interesting thing about these photo-publishing apps is that they include everyone who chooses to be included in what you are doing in a way never before available. In the past you could always tell people about the party you went to, your outfit, the view from your hotel room, or you could take pictures and upload them or show them later. But now, if we choose it, there is instant visual representation of our every move, other people can now see what we’re seeing, only moments afterwards. It means that no longer are our friends missing out on things, because they can be right there with us. It’s killing the need for conversation too. No longer do I need to ask my friends what they did on the weekend, where they went for brunch, what they ate, who with and who wore what, because there is a picture available on my social media feed with all that information. (And no, I’m not willing to give up that part of my life just yet)

To make matters worse, the other side of the coin is that it is making FOMO (fear of missing out) more prevalent because our friends who are doing much more fun things than us can show us. Instead of having to wait for the email, or even the status updates, we can see the blue water of a tropical island, the inside of a British pub or the hot boys on the streets of Paris. When you’re sitting at a desk, none of this is conducive to feelings of joy for that other person, it only sparks study-boredom fueled hatred.

Pictures are wonderful, they speak a thousand words, but I would rather hear those words from the mouths of my friends when I ask for them, instead of from the photos that are doing all the talking and leaving no suspense.

Take a Dirty Picture

Summer jobs, one of the many bains of student life. Our brains are worth so much and yet we’re forced to work in minimum wage occupations (that is, if we aren’t the chosen ones being schmoosed by various firms with too much money, not enough work and ample supplies of alcohol). Some friends and I discussed how we could make more money over summer until the uninvented invention I create for a niche market takes off, and the subject of being a bartender in a strip club came up. Now don’t go all conservative and shocked on me please. The ads show all these happy looking women with lots of cash, and we all want lots of cash. And what’s really the problem? I really don’t think being a stripper is my thing but bartending in a strip club, that’s just bartending right? So why is there such a shortage of people doing it and why is it such a big deal?

We are so Victorian in our double standards, all the dudes I know (and many of the girls) have frequented an ‘exotic’ joint at one time or another, but to work there is generally looked down on by all of us. How is that you’ll pay the wages but not do the work? Another reason that it’s not a great career prospect for me is that a societally-judged indiscretion like that will follow you for the rest of your life. If we ever become successful, what we do now will one day be brought up again (and sold for millions of dollars). Think Cameron Diaz, Kim K’s video, Paris Hilton’s video and the raft of other celebrities who have sent pictures to partners in the (vain) hopes that they’re for their eyes only.

So, especially to you ladies, before you do anything for the money, the excitement, or because your boyfriend thinks it’s a good idea, remember, that it can and will be documented forever, and the future you could be pretty gutted about that.

P.S. Found this secret one one of my favourite blogs postsecret.com and it’s sadly appropriate:

Spying Eyes

I have mentioned my perviness on here before, I like to think of it as a lifestyle choice rather than a gross quirk. I have a particularly interesting set of neighbours that I have been watching all year. There’s an older man, an older women, a young child and an assortment of younger women and men who come and go. Here’s what I’ve picked up: old man (who we have nicknamed grandpa) runs some sort of international business (amongst his other hobbies such as watching ALL test match rugby) as he is on his headset late at night and early in the morning. The child isn’t theirs, he’s only five and grandpa’s at least 60, but, the wife could be much younger, it’s hard to tell, I reckon the kid belongs to the brown-haired girl. They never eat at the dining table. Curious right? Well I had quite a breakthrough yesterday as I was checking out the builders over the road who had taken their shirts off, a delivery van pulled up outside and loaded some freshly packed boxes into the back, all with a company’s logo on it, which I have since investigated and seems like exactly the sort of business grandpa and co. could be running.

If there was one thing that saddens me about not being in a country that is against other countries/has reason to be threatened/is a world super-power, is our lack of spies. I don’t even know if New Zealand has any real spies. I certainly hope not because their force is definitely lacking without my expertise. Or even private investigators? Do we have those? How am I to know without it being documented on a television drama. Seriously, my potential is being wasted, I can walk into a room and tell you immediately if there are any hot guys in it. I can remember people’s outfits on demand and I know the comings and goings of all the neighbours. I think it’s about time I put my skills of ‘observation’ to real use, for the good of the nation, not just to alleviate my indescribable boredom on a Monday afternoon.

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