2002-11-08 at 11:12 a.m.
Well, our concert practice stunt the other day went down like a rousing rendition of 'Donald, where's yer trousers' at Princess Diana's funeral. The story of what happened spread around the Con in a manner somewhat akin to wildfire, and consequently, we were summoned into the office of the Head of Academic Studies for a little talk.He saw the funny side of it, thankfully.
Basically, he said we were idiots, told us to write a letter of apology to the lecturers we'd inadvertently insulted, and to never do it again.
Peter was genuinely repentant. Jordan was pissed off. I was just infinitely amused by it all.
Of course, Jordan's anger could stem from a comment about the three of us, which he overheard from one of the concert practice lecturers-
"Well, I look forward to seeing them in two years, when they're standing in the dole queue."
The fact that she'd have to be standing in the queue as well, in order to see us there, seems to have escaped her.
Peter came up to me at the pub the other night.
Peter- If I'm your god now, does that make me omnipotent? What super powers do I have?
Me- You can choose your own powers.
Peter- Whee!
[Later]
Me- Have you chosen your powers yet?
Peter- Not yet. I want them to be really good powers.
Me- How about 'God of Giving Worshippers The Ability To Sink Pool Shots?' (I was losing at pool rather badly at this point).
Peter- Nah.
Me- (trying to work out which end of the pool cue to point at the little ball) Gee, thanks.
[Later]
Peter- I've got it! How about 'The God Of Saying Really Inappropriate Things At Really Inappropriate Times But Never Getting Slapped In The Face'?
Me- That sounds like the kind of diety I'd worship.
Jordan broke a string on the Steinway Grand in the concert hall last night.
This is an important milestone in the career of every pianist. Sadly, it's a milestone I have yet to achieve. This is because my hands are piss-weak.
Anyway, to mark the occasion, I took him down to the pub for a celebratory beer.
One celebratory beer turned into about twenty.
Exam stress is turning me alcoholic. This is not good.
I need to find other ways to fill in my time.
1. Irish dancing
2. Military service
3. Writing crank letters to mentally unstable people wishing to travel though time
4. Eating my own weight in cheese
5. Finding more romance books about kittens and writing long, pointless reviews about them which no-one reads anyway
6. Actually going and doing some practise, for chrissake! You've got less than 3 weeks now! What the hell are you doing sitting here writing pointless lists? Get your arse over to the piano and practise now!
7. Creating my own line of hand-knitted giraffe ponchos.
