Hi!
This is the end. Ruby is going to do some things and I am also going to do some things elsewhere because we have both finished studying. We will be FAR away from each other, and have made the executive decision to end our collaboration.
Thank you for reading us! I like you all.
I have a new blog. It's called Triceratops Wins. I dare you to follow me!
I also have a tumblr with pictures of angry people in the rain. I think it's fun.
Good bye!
From Liz
Saturday, 7 January 2012
Saturday, 29 October 2011
And then God said...
Well hello there. Long time no see.
I am (obviously) extremely stressed as dissertation is due Monday.
It is taking all of my (not so extensive) self-control to be inside this tiny, fly-infested library (FLY IN THE LIBRARY!!), watching Hannah eat ham out of a paper bag, for two more days. I have cut down to one game of tennis and four meal breaks per day. It is killing me. I am, however, making up for this by increased caffeine consumption. Is it working. Possibly.
Lots of love, you stressed little students out there.
(To anyone who isn't; Touche, sir. My hat off to you.)
CIAO BABEZ
Ruby
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Drop Bears and Bored Catz
Hello.
First: You should probably click the little box that says 'Join this site'
Second: Look what ad came up when I was not looking at midget porn:
It looks like some kind of midget wrestling. I'm disturbed.
After a little sleuthing I learned that Halfpint Brawlers is the top midget wrestling company in the USA.
Go aMurica!
I just played a game with my laptop called 'Even though I have known for the last 10 minutes that you are about to run out of battery power I will still wait for you to say '0:00' and then move faster than a pack of dogs on a three-legged cat to see if I can get my charger before you die on me'. If I make it, I win. I get a point.
I often play games with myself. Here are some more!
- See if I can hold my breath until the end of class. I usually do this when I think class is nearly over. If I make it without passing out or breathing, I get a point.
- This is probably my favourite game. When I go for a run in the morning and it's still dark, to make myself run faster I think of scary things like clowns, rapists, and drop bears. I only just learnt what a drop bear was the other day. They excite me coz they JUST FUCKING DROP. WOW! I wish there were drop people. Or drop midgets. Who lived in trees. And they drop on unsuspecting people. If I don't get attacked by any of the aforementioned things then I get a point.
- If I wake up just before my alarm goes off, I get a point.
- If I get the front wheels of my car over the lines when I am exiting an intersection before the oncoming car gets their back wheels over the same lines then I get a point. This is really easy because my car is so speedy.
That was a lie. It's grey (grey cars are the slowest) station wagon which is older than me.
- If I spot someone who I don't usually see and I was JUST thinking about them then I get a point.
- If my iTunes is on shuffle when I'm not the only one listening and no embarrassing songs play then I get a point.
- If I find something on the internet which only has one result when I look for it on Google then I get a point.
If I get 10 points in one day, then I'm allowed to buy an icecream. I realise that icecream is supposed to be two words but I like it as one. Same deal with thankyou. And dropbears.
I got a point today:
1 result, bitches! And it was super fast.
More importantly...
No.
After some intense research I learnt it is actually not possible to die of boredom or live forever.
But...aquagenic urticaria. That really sucks.
There are only a handful of Pokémon which can talk.
Meowth used to be in a street gang in Hollywood. He was in search of fame and fortune; he wanted to get noticed so he taught himself how to walk and speak like a human. Meowth joined Team Rocket because 'rocket' was the first word he learnt.
What a shit story.
Squirtle is the best.
This is all I have today.
Bye
From Liz Tritops
First: You should probably click the little box that says 'Join this site'
Second: Look what ad came up when I was not looking at midget porn:
It looks like some kind of midget wrestling. I'm disturbed.
After a little sleuthing I learned that Halfpint Brawlers is the top midget wrestling company in the USA.
Go aMurica!
I just played a game with my laptop called 'Even though I have known for the last 10 minutes that you are about to run out of battery power I will still wait for you to say '0:00' and then move faster than a pack of dogs on a three-legged cat to see if I can get my charger before you die on me'. If I make it, I win. I get a point.
I often play games with myself. Here are some more!
- See if I can hold my breath until the end of class. I usually do this when I think class is nearly over. If I make it without passing out or breathing, I get a point.
- This is probably my favourite game. When I go for a run in the morning and it's still dark, to make myself run faster I think of scary things like clowns, rapists, and drop bears. I only just learnt what a drop bear was the other day. They excite me coz they JUST FUCKING DROP. WOW! I wish there were drop people. Or drop midgets. Who lived in trees. And they drop on unsuspecting people. If I don't get attacked by any of the aforementioned things then I get a point.
- If I wake up just before my alarm goes off, I get a point.
- If I get the front wheels of my car over the lines when I am exiting an intersection before the oncoming car gets their back wheels over the same lines then I get a point. This is really easy because my car is so speedy.
That was a lie. It's grey (grey cars are the slowest) station wagon which is older than me.
- If I spot someone who I don't usually see and I was JUST thinking about them then I get a point.
- If my iTunes is on shuffle when I'm not the only one listening and no embarrassing songs play then I get a point.
- If I find something on the internet which only has one result when I look for it on Google then I get a point.
If I get 10 points in one day, then I'm allowed to buy an icecream. I realise that icecream is supposed to be two words but I like it as one. Same deal with thankyou. And dropbears.
I got a point today:
1 result, bitches! And it was super fast.
More importantly...
No.
But...aquagenic urticaria. That really sucks.
Meowth used to be in a street gang in Hollywood. He was in search of fame and fortune; he wanted to get noticed so he taught himself how to walk and speak like a human. Meowth joined Team Rocket because 'rocket' was the first word he learnt.
What a shit story.
Squirtle is the best.
This is all I have today.
Bye
From Liz Tritops
Friday, 14 October 2011
Epidemic of academic. A polemic.
So, in between playing tennis with small children, listening to Step Up soundtrack (something for which I will never be ashamed. Slightly more embarrassing was my week in which all I could listen to was Carrie Underwood songs, for which I totally blame Glee.), youtubing Bon Qui Qui videos, and inventing every way possible in which to insert "next minute" into a sentence while still remaining vaguely coherent, I have managed to write TWO PAGES of my dissertation.
I know right.
To be fair (though I have a feeling my supervisor would be less than sympathetic to any of these reasons), quite a considerable margin of my time has been taken up with constructing flow diagrams of rugby world cup probabilities, and writing short poems in iambic pentameter* about how stressed I am**.
But, now that it seems that NZ will be out at the semis (Joke! Joke! Don't shoot me!) and nobody has ever read Keats (and only seen the movie cos of Fanny Brawne, ding DONG!), it seems to me to be about time to finish up in Dunedin and move on out into the worrrld. Get a job in public health. A lovely socially-acceptable same-sex relationship (ideally involving a great deal of interior decorating and home-made preserves). A six pack like Jillian Michaels. All very likely occurrences. (Sarcasm here is variable according to political persuasion; I try to cater to all masteries of ironic cynicism. You hipsters. I have a bike, too. And one time I bought organic shampoo. It made my hair smell like like SBW's armpit in Ramadan (dead lemons mixed with rexona, for the curious) and clump in an interestingly vertical yet aesthetically displeasing manner).
(I also want to learn to spell occurrences without spellcheck, that is up there on the wish list, just beneath unpasteurised cheese and rhyming better.)
Babe, amiright. I would be fat anyday to put on gym shorts and be abused by her.
Anyhow;
[brief sojourn into apathetic politics.]
Do other people worry about these things?
I mean, not cheese so much. The future. Do you worry that you may not have matching sofa cushions one day? Or that you will never own a home? I am somewhere between the two. Unfortunately, I also acknowledge that it is not only what I do that will make me who I become; it is where I came from and the people I (and my family) know. I have been a little occupied, you could say. I'd like to do something about it. Explain to people that they are all part of a larger functioning society, and what is paid back comes full circle. But I will have to muster my thoughts somewhat. Cut down on Glee time. And maybe read something not containing "pooled relative risks were controlled for intra-examiner measurement error and eighty-three other adjustments, rendering the secondary analysis completely worthless haha shame you had to read 30 pages to figure this out, loser postgrad". Before I can figure out exactly WHAT is wrong (if anything) with the world.
[Over now. Well done. Continue.]
To conclude; I get to go in a plane on Tuesday. I am very, very excited.
Some people hate planes (David. Hysterical*** woman off Bridesmaids. Terrorists (I assume, from the evidence.) It is safe to say I do not. In fact, I get so excited by planes that one time Dad seriously offered me codeine in order that he would not have to play eye spy with me one more time. Eye spy (in the sky) is often difficult once we get beyond the regulars of W is for wandering albatross ("you did not!" "Dad! They fly more than 100,000km/year! They obviously move a hell of a lot faster than you can see, it's not my fault you're old and decrepit, one point for me. Hah!"), S is for slipstream, and C is for circulating air generating differential lift.
I absolutely LOVE looking out the window. (I always request a window seat, and if anyone takes it I just look at them. Like this. Until they move. Heh.)
I ADORE free coffee! Even though it is very shitty and requires addition of three tiny sugar packets and UHT milk (fondly reminiscent of the time I accidentally ate melted spatula off the stove-top because I thought it was just old cheese.) and also makes me have to pee. Which I love as well! The hilarious noise! Vacuum-cleaner loo!
I TOTALLY get off on (inappropriate? Too late.) landing. So exciting! I know (from PHSI102, which I passed. I know physics gets all up in your grill disproving magic but I swear to the Higgs boson they were just impressed by my patronus. (It is a bear. Just in case you were wondering. One of those sunbears they have in Wellington Zoo that look like cuddly little snugglebuddies but would rather eat your kneecap than watch Gossip Girl with you. I assume. (Dear androgynous outmoded primitive self-help system, I want a bear. I will call her fluffypants and take her jogging and yes, maybe she will eat Jack Russells but I will kick her bone-filled poo off the path afterwards and give tearful ex-pet owners a stolen airline mint each.)) that planes stay up coz of like, the wind goes faster underneath than above? But still, YOU ARE IN THE AIR ON NOTHING! Awesome, right.
And I think this sums up nicely exactly what points I have been trying to make!
1) Tennis is fun. But do not play the day after you play squash unless you want to have to chase balls down Opoho hill for 20 minutes. Hannah, one day I will beat you. (Dad: you; I probably never will.)
1a) I want a job. (Employ me. I am fun and can make pina coladas. Fact.) But, I would like a bear more.
4) Cheese is the best thing ever. (Yeah really? Typical. And yes it is. I would totally rather have sexy cheese than cheesy sex. (This sounds vaguely unhygienic also.))
16) The end. Have a nice day.
*why do people not know things. It mystifies me.
**Hemm heeeemmmm:
Iambic pentameter thesis.
I did receive a mail that said to me
"I do believe the page has not been writ"
I hit reply "I fear it will not be...
complete before the date that was foretold."
My lecturer then sent another mail
"if you do not hand in on time; you fail."
I now return, from net to word, to try...
and type some words. Against my fate I rail.
***THIS is proper usage of hysterical. Thank you.
I know right.
To be fair (though I have a feeling my supervisor would be less than sympathetic to any of these reasons), quite a considerable margin of my time has been taken up with constructing flow diagrams of rugby world cup probabilities, and writing short poems in iambic pentameter* about how stressed I am**.
But, now that it seems that NZ will be out at the semis (Joke! Joke! Don't shoot me!) and nobody has ever read Keats (and only seen the movie cos of Fanny Brawne, ding DONG!), it seems to me to be about time to finish up in Dunedin and move on out into the worrrld. Get a job in public health. A lovely socially-acceptable same-sex relationship (ideally involving a great deal of interior decorating and home-made preserves). A six pack like Jillian Michaels. All very likely occurrences. (Sarcasm here is variable according to political persuasion; I try to cater to all masteries of ironic cynicism. You hipsters. I have a bike, too. And one time I bought organic shampoo. It made my hair smell like like SBW's armpit in Ramadan (dead lemons mixed with rexona, for the curious) and clump in an interestingly vertical yet aesthetically displeasing manner).
(I also want to learn to spell occurrences without spellcheck, that is up there on the wish list, just beneath unpasteurised cheese and rhyming better.)
Babe, amiright. I would be fat anyday to put on gym shorts and be abused by her.
Anyhow;
[brief sojourn into apathetic politics.]
Do other people worry about these things?
I mean, not cheese so much. The future. Do you worry that you may not have matching sofa cushions one day? Or that you will never own a home? I am somewhere between the two. Unfortunately, I also acknowledge that it is not only what I do that will make me who I become; it is where I came from and the people I (and my family) know. I have been a little occupied, you could say. I'd like to do something about it. Explain to people that they are all part of a larger functioning society, and what is paid back comes full circle. But I will have to muster my thoughts somewhat. Cut down on Glee time. And maybe read something not containing "pooled relative risks were controlled for intra-examiner measurement error and eighty-three other adjustments, rendering the secondary analysis completely worthless haha shame you had to read 30 pages to figure this out, loser postgrad". Before I can figure out exactly WHAT is wrong (if anything) with the world.
[Over now. Well done. Continue.]
To conclude; I get to go in a plane on Tuesday. I am very, very excited.
Some people hate planes (David. Hysterical*** woman off Bridesmaids. Terrorists (I assume, from the evidence.) It is safe to say I do not. In fact, I get so excited by planes that one time Dad seriously offered me codeine in order that he would not have to play eye spy with me one more time. Eye spy (in the sky) is often difficult once we get beyond the regulars of W is for wandering albatross ("you did not!" "Dad! They fly more than 100,000km/year! They obviously move a hell of a lot faster than you can see, it's not my fault you're old and decrepit, one point for me. Hah!"), S is for slipstream, and C is for circulating air generating differential lift.
I absolutely LOVE looking out the window. (I always request a window seat, and if anyone takes it I just look at them. Like this. Until they move. Heh.)
I ADORE free coffee! Even though it is very shitty and requires addition of three tiny sugar packets and UHT milk (fondly reminiscent of the time I accidentally ate melted spatula off the stove-top because I thought it was just old cheese.) and also makes me have to pee. Which I love as well! The hilarious noise! Vacuum-cleaner loo!
I TOTALLY get off on (inappropriate? Too late.) landing. So exciting! I know (from PHSI102, which I passed. I know physics gets all up in your grill disproving magic but I swear to the Higgs boson they were just impressed by my patronus. (It is a bear. Just in case you were wondering. One of those sunbears they have in Wellington Zoo that look like cuddly little snugglebuddies but would rather eat your kneecap than watch Gossip Girl with you. I assume. (Dear androgynous outmoded primitive self-help system, I want a bear. I will call her fluffypants and take her jogging and yes, maybe she will eat Jack Russells but I will kick her bone-filled poo off the path afterwards and give tearful ex-pet owners a stolen airline mint each.)) that planes stay up coz of like, the wind goes faster underneath than above? But still, YOU ARE IN THE AIR ON NOTHING! Awesome, right.
And I think this sums up nicely exactly what points I have been trying to make!
1) Tennis is fun. But do not play the day after you play squash unless you want to have to chase balls down Opoho hill for 20 minutes. Hannah, one day I will beat you. (Dad: you; I probably never will.)
1a) I want a job. (Employ me. I am fun and can make pina coladas. Fact.) But, I would like a bear more.
4) Cheese is the best thing ever. (Yeah really? Typical. And yes it is. I would totally rather have sexy cheese than cheesy sex. (This sounds vaguely unhygienic also.))
16) The end. Have a nice day.
*why do people not know things. It mystifies me.
**Hemm heeeemmmm:
Iambic pentameter thesis.
I did receive a mail that said to me
"I do believe the page has not been writ"
I hit reply "I fear it will not be...
complete before the date that was foretold."
My lecturer then sent another mail
"if you do not hand in on time; you fail."
I now return, from net to word, to try...
and type some words. Against my fate I rail.
***THIS is proper usage of hysterical. Thank you.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Cake, Caffeine, and Bookshelfporn
Hello.
How are you?
I made some kind of a flow chart because I should be studying today. It kinda sums up my life right now.
I hope you're excited about pirates, cowboys, and vikings.
Maybe tomorrow I will get some study done.
LOVE
Liz Tritops
Saturday, 1 October 2011
Hipsters, dinosaurs, and pencils. (with 75% less dinosaur)
A short poem entitled "Are you calling me a hipster?"
...but...but... It is ME!
How can this be?
I've never thought myself a hipster,
but now, I worry,
that my op-shopped clothes,
not of poverty bode,
but of deliberate anti-fashion,
calculated disinterest in the "mode".
My liking for pencils
and long rambling (poe)ms,
my pensive diaries
and retro headphones.
My Tolstoy, my Kafka,
my copy of "out of africa"
my penguin classics library
and (not really) ironic love of Bridget Jones.
It's clear that this category
was designed with me in mind
(I even have a compost,
and write rebuttals in, average, rhyme)
But hear me, you people,
before you condemn me.
We're the way of the future
and although I'm condescending,
and judgmental, quite often,
on your choices of clothes
your appalling taste in music
("subjectivity" is not a word I know)
The world needs us! At least I think so...
White kids from the 'burbs
we re-invented social conscience,
choose to distinguish ourselves from the herd.
We like banjos! They are fun!
Tweed pants! Suit everyone!
Old movies, new photos,
black coffee, vegan samosas,
milky tea! democrats!
greenhouses! (not gases),
Music made in sheds!
Ironic hats!
So!
I do ride a bike
I choose eggs from happy hens
But if given the choice, dear jury,
I'd do it all again.
...but...but... It is ME!
How can this be?
I've never thought myself a hipster,
but now, I worry,
that my op-shopped clothes,
not of poverty bode,
but of deliberate anti-fashion,
calculated disinterest in the "mode".
My liking for pencils
and long rambling (poe)ms,
my pensive diaries
and retro headphones.
My Tolstoy, my Kafka,
my copy of "out of africa"
my penguin classics library
and (not really) ironic love of Bridget Jones.
It's clear that this category
was designed with me in mind
(I even have a compost,
and write rebuttals in, average, rhyme)
But hear me, you people,
before you condemn me.
We're the way of the future
and although I'm condescending,
and judgmental, quite often,
on your choices of clothes
your appalling taste in music
("subjectivity" is not a word I know)
The world needs us! At least I think so...
White kids from the 'burbs
we re-invented social conscience,
choose to distinguish ourselves from the herd.
We like banjos! They are fun!
Tweed pants! Suit everyone!
Old movies, new photos,
black coffee, vegan samosas,
milky tea! democrats!
greenhouses! (not gases),
Music made in sheds!
Ironic hats!
So!
I do ride a bike
I choose eggs from happy hens
But if given the choice, dear jury,
I'd do it all again.
Friday, 30 September 2011
A feminist NEVER spills her drink.
Today I was thinking about feminism.
(cos I just read Caitlin Moran; like Germaine Greer with a sense of humour and also more of a babe).
More specifically, I was thinking about how awesome it would be if this happened.
I would buy this woman a drink.
(And then possibly try sleep with her.
But only if she let me cos she is obviously a self-empowered woman.
And also would kick me in the ovaries if I crossed that thin line between admiration and inappropriate touching.)
Also, on a vaguely unrelated note, this morning I went to the supermarket and bought bandaids and tampons.
Checkout guy: "Anything else?"
Me: "Hmmm, na. I think this should about cover it."
GOOD.
Peace out homos.
Ruby.
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