Farewell the ashtray girl...
Jul. 23rd, 2003 04:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenSo... yes.
Becca and Hannah arrived as expected. And stayed. And stayed. And stayed.
No, I'm not being a bitch. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, though as per usual we didn't do a damn thing. Hannah began by showing me LJ's new style, component - I may revamp my journal's layout purely because of it. It's a paid user thing only, apparently, which makes Hannah even more exited about it. Before we could start playing with it, Becca arrived, I introduced them both to Dadi, and then we looked through one of Hannah's photo albums. I wish I'd thought to scan some of the pictures in, as the only one that has thus far appeared online is this one. Anyway, following that, we went to the beach. And we talked a lot. I can't really remember what we talked about, as there's so many things we seem to have talked about. For some reason, Becca needed convincing that the defining characteristics of the beach are, in fact, sand and water. By the time we reached the sea, the conversation had turned to the way the sea comes in, how the waves are big, how the British as a whole are odd people - there were people swimming in the sea, for crying out loud - and how odd we were and are, as by then we were standing in the water (all with rolled-up jeans, shoes having been shed long before) and talking animatedly with the Atlantic lapping around our feet. We forgot to take towels and also Becca's digital camera. If we hadn't forgotten, not only would we have been drier but everyone would have been treated to a bunch of pics of us standing in the sea.
So, yes, blessing in disguise. And we got home, wet and wild, left our shoes outside, and actually managed to make lunch without anything disastrous happening. We even had food in the house. Admittedly we ended up eating a strange mixture of cheese, toast, cracked red pepper and mustard, but still. This was followed by more conversation. About a variety of subjects, none of which I can quite remember, except I do know we fixed my alarm clock, as it is now working - it tells you the time when you press the button - and we downloaded some music. Becca kept on telling me that the Estonian entry to the Eurovision Song Contest was actually good. I caved and downloaded it. It's good! Really! Well, it's not awful, and we were all sitting on my bed singing along in completely camp fashion, so yeah, it's good. Perhaps to counteract that, we also downloaded Seven Nation Army and Placebo's This Picture.
Becca made a chance remark about U2, and how she said she liked Beautiful Day, then Elevation, then Walk On, and then it occurred to her that she might just like U2 as a band. I started thinking along the same lines about Placebo. If I'd been asked how many of their songs I had, I would have said three, maybe four, but having counted just now, I have nineteen and counting. We were looking up the lyrics to The Bitter End (because it's such a angsty, wonderful song - when pissed off, jump up and shout, "We're feeling so anaesthetised, in our comfort zone!") and I noticed that I may, sort of, somehow, be a fan of Placebo. I love the songs, I love Brian Molko (yes, blatant fangirlie love) and just... love. Meh.
Hannah also got me to download the Counting Crows' Black and Blue. Nice song, but she got twitchy when listening to it, and then finally revealed the fact that her version of the song is different. Her version, in fact, features the first verse repeated about ten times then fade to silence, and she has never realised that this is not artistic license but a fault in the download. She says she still prefers her version. Oh, of course.
My mother arrived around then, and told us she was there, and also said we should get pizza. So we rang up the place, ordered a cheese and tomato vegetable pizza without mushrooms or onions but with pineapple and sweetcorn, and then went out to get it. It was still light then, and we walked down the road and talked, and got the pizza, briefly met an acquaintance of Becca's named Neil, and then walked back. And ate the pizza, and talked. This wasn't a sleepover, and as someone who wasn't me said, the word "sleepover" is reminiscent of nine-year-olds in sleeping bags watching Titanic and trying to make rice krispie cakes. Ours was more like a "we've forgotten to go home" kind of thing. I lent Becca a nightie, a strange tent-like object with the word "Florida" on the front, which Hannah, for some reason, read as "Fort Da."
Conversation petered off around one am and didn't pick up again until eleven am. We got up slowly, ate breakfast slowly (toast and Oreos) and talked. Slowly. Until about half three. At which point they departed. And I would like very much to know what we talked about for all that time. But sadly, I don't know.
Becca and Hannah arrived as expected. And stayed. And stayed. And stayed.
No, I'm not being a bitch. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, though as per usual we didn't do a damn thing. Hannah began by showing me LJ's new style, component - I may revamp my journal's layout purely because of it. It's a paid user thing only, apparently, which makes Hannah even more exited about it. Before we could start playing with it, Becca arrived, I introduced them both to Dadi, and then we looked through one of Hannah's photo albums. I wish I'd thought to scan some of the pictures in, as the only one that has thus far appeared online is this one. Anyway, following that, we went to the beach. And we talked a lot. I can't really remember what we talked about, as there's so many things we seem to have talked about. For some reason, Becca needed convincing that the defining characteristics of the beach are, in fact, sand and water. By the time we reached the sea, the conversation had turned to the way the sea comes in, how the waves are big, how the British as a whole are odd people - there were people swimming in the sea, for crying out loud - and how odd we were and are, as by then we were standing in the water (all with rolled-up jeans, shoes having been shed long before) and talking animatedly with the Atlantic lapping around our feet. We forgot to take towels and also Becca's digital camera. If we hadn't forgotten, not only would we have been drier but everyone would have been treated to a bunch of pics of us standing in the sea.
So, yes, blessing in disguise. And we got home, wet and wild, left our shoes outside, and actually managed to make lunch without anything disastrous happening. We even had food in the house. Admittedly we ended up eating a strange mixture of cheese, toast, cracked red pepper and mustard, but still. This was followed by more conversation. About a variety of subjects, none of which I can quite remember, except I do know we fixed my alarm clock, as it is now working - it tells you the time when you press the button - and we downloaded some music. Becca kept on telling me that the Estonian entry to the Eurovision Song Contest was actually good. I caved and downloaded it. It's good! Really! Well, it's not awful, and we were all sitting on my bed singing along in completely camp fashion, so yeah, it's good. Perhaps to counteract that, we also downloaded Seven Nation Army and Placebo's This Picture.
Becca made a chance remark about U2, and how she said she liked Beautiful Day, then Elevation, then Walk On, and then it occurred to her that she might just like U2 as a band. I started thinking along the same lines about Placebo. If I'd been asked how many of their songs I had, I would have said three, maybe four, but having counted just now, I have nineteen and counting. We were looking up the lyrics to The Bitter End (because it's such a angsty, wonderful song - when pissed off, jump up and shout, "We're feeling so anaesthetised, in our comfort zone!") and I noticed that I may, sort of, somehow, be a fan of Placebo. I love the songs, I love Brian Molko (yes, blatant fangirlie love) and just... love. Meh.
Hannah also got me to download the Counting Crows' Black and Blue. Nice song, but she got twitchy when listening to it, and then finally revealed the fact that her version of the song is different. Her version, in fact, features the first verse repeated about ten times then fade to silence, and she has never realised that this is not artistic license but a fault in the download. She says she still prefers her version. Oh, of course.
My mother arrived around then, and told us she was there, and also said we should get pizza. So we rang up the place, ordered a cheese and tomato vegetable pizza without mushrooms or onions but with pineapple and sweetcorn, and then went out to get it. It was still light then, and we walked down the road and talked, and got the pizza, briefly met an acquaintance of Becca's named Neil, and then walked back. And ate the pizza, and talked. This wasn't a sleepover, and as someone who wasn't me said, the word "sleepover" is reminiscent of nine-year-olds in sleeping bags watching Titanic and trying to make rice krispie cakes. Ours was more like a "we've forgotten to go home" kind of thing. I lent Becca a nightie, a strange tent-like object with the word "Florida" on the front, which Hannah, for some reason, read as "Fort Da."
Conversation petered off around one am and didn't pick up again until eleven am. We got up slowly, ate breakfast slowly (toast and Oreos) and talked. Slowly. Until about half three. At which point they departed. And I would like very much to know what we talked about for all that time. But sadly, I don't know.
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"Fort/Da"
on 2003-07-23 12:43 pm (UTC)Had I written a proper convention report about Anthrocon, instead of a Groping Weirdo Report, I would have mentioned that one item I helped sell at the charity auction was a Sigmund Freud action figure, made by a company called Accoutrements.
Re: "Fort/Da"
on 2003-07-23 12:47 pm (UTC)And yes - my next stop was your journal, as a matter of fact. I just wanted to say how glad I was you told the Groping Weirdo in no uncertain terms what a barstard he was. Is. Whatever. I was glad, anyway. So many people wouldn't have had the guts to really shout.