shot glass


It turns out, sitting in the back garden, drinking too much wine, till midnight, at my parents' house does actually open the secret door to 2004, (where LJ was waiting like a small, yappy type dog!)

I wonder how I get through the door to 1977? That probably involves absinthe and chucking rockstar hissy fits in hotel rooms, doesn't it? I might put that off for a bit, actually.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

british, boots


There is absolutely no reason to get obsessed with yet another social network, but LJ was my online crack long before I started shooting up FaceBook and smoking Twitter, so I figure it's more of a relapse than anything else.

(Pushing the drug metaphor a little far? Yeah, thought so!)

Anyway, hello, old friends. I'm kind of temporarily possibly back.

JZ x

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

going mad

Easing in gently, with texty madness.

My old text messages make me laugh.

'Too much Goldschlager leads to getting eaten by alligators. Now there's a lesson on the evils of drinking!'
- from a random episode of CSI Miami.

'Well, everything's gone  a bit Captain Trips. A____'s been sick, called the doctor and been sent home with instructions to get a course of Tami Flu tablets. M______ also feels poorly, so she rang her doctor - he's out on a call but the receptionist says to call back because it sounds likely that she's got swine flu too. It's like the soddding Stand in here, I'm frightened to sneeze.' 
- as my workplace goes down with the plague.

'That's not desperately useful! Like you're going to have time to pen a strongly  worded letter as you flee in shrieking terror from the shambling armies of the homicidal, brain hungry undead.'
-when I found out that Chinese zombies can jump, but can be stopped by putting words in their heads. Or something.

'Fucking stopping in the middle of the street, jumping on each other for an excessive hug and screaming like banshees. It's not like you've all circumnavigated to globe, or been trapped in the Belgian Congo for three years, you ridiculous, over-emotional twats. You've been away for Uni for three weeks! For the love of God, rein it in!'
- at the return of the Durham students.

'How come we can put a man on the moon, but we can't design a nail varnish that dries fast enough that you don't smudge it the moment you touch anything?
'Because men care about science and space travel and rocket powered stuff, so they put their best minds on the job. They don't care about nail varnish, or about making mascara wands out of something soft so that when you invariably stab yourself in the eye, you don't cry and wreck the rest of your eye make up.'
-Lily and I complain about the unfairness of life.

'If you're lucky enough to perform with the legend that is Queen Stevie Of Nicks, you don't relegate her to backing vocals and tambourine whilst you pollute the stage with your off-key, blonde, country-pop nonsense. You do her songs, if she lets you, and you do them anyway she wants you to!'
- on Taylor Swift and Stevie Nicks at the Grammys.

'How is it I can fearlessly navigate the respective underground systems of London, New York, Boston and Atlanta, yet the Metro in Newcastle freaks me out?'
- I have a very bad day.

'There's a guy in the bus station with a 'I-should-be-in-prison-but-they-don't-have-room-for-me-so-I'm-wandering-the-streets-and-do-you-like-my-penal-system-bling' tag on his ankle. Turns out, not reassuring, just scary.'
- proving that I am nowhere near as hard as I like to think I am!
british, boots

A distinct lack of girlness.

Here's what's got me worried.

This morning, I got up, got dressed, put very little make up on and went to town. I went into every clothes shop there was and bought absolutely nothing.
Then, I went on the internet specifically to check my team's league standings in Fantasy Football (which has eaten my brain, and for the first and probably only time in my life, makes me concerned about the state of Steven Gerrard's groin.)
Then I managed to get ready for a wedding in less than 20 minutes, including a change of clothes and re-doing my hair and makeup.

To top it off, when I got to the wedding my brother was wearing a kilt, which as masculine as it sounds, is still a skirt, which he looked better in than I usually do.

I've never been a girly girl, but I think it might actually be time to resign my female status.

I don't want to be a man, though. Is there a third gender?
  • Current Music
    Sex On Fire - Kings Of Leon


Morning all.
(Well, afternoon, really, but most of my f-list is at least 5 hours behind me, so the law of averages says it'll be morning for most of you.)

lily_st_regis has gone mad, but in all fairness, she is having a very very bad time of storyboarding. And now she's progressed to Projectile Pencils in my living room. I maybe should have said no when she said, 'shall I make more coffee?'
Too late now!
Mwaa haa haa haa! (That's my caffeine overdose laugh, btw.)

I'm having Life Disillusionment Issues. I'm fairly certain that about three weeks ago, I really liked my job. And I do still like my job, the parts that involve talking to people and all the books, but the backstage stuff is driving me right up the wall and across the ceiling a little bit.

Oh, and I'm so over this Twitter thing.

Actually, no, that's not quite accurate, cos I like sneaking little glimpses into real people's lives.
I'm over the Z-list celebrity Twitter thing.
Partly because I don't I understand how you can say anything in 140 characters, but mostly because, if you've only got 140 characters to think about, HOW COME YOU STILL CAN'T SPELL?? And why is it suddenly the only way of getting a point across in the ongoing saga of your terrible marriage breakdown, or what ever self induced crisis you're inflicting on the public at this particular moment.
We get all the info - at great length, whether we want it or not - anyway, so how much light does your mispelled e-blip shed on the situation?
Mindless celebrities +Twittering = Twats.

Ok, off chest now.

And my brain won't behave. I need it to knuckle down and write some more of it's stupid new story and it doesn't want to. it wants to play on the internet and watch Veronica Mars and drink too much coffee and generally piss me off!
It's enough to make you wish for bio-tech, or to be a cyborg, cos then at least you could program yourself to do want you wanted.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.

I'm getting help, I promise.

Jz x
  • Current Music
    Long Distance Roundaround - yes
mother's form, eddings

My heart is broken.

I came online today to fill my post with random inane rubbish, but in wandering through cyber space I just got sucker punched.

David Eddings, fantasy legend, died on June 2nd at the age of 77.

I've loved David's work since I was probably too young to read it, and can think of no other writer whose stories inhabit my head so completely. David and his equally brilliant wife, Leigh, who died in 2007, managed to pick my brain out of my head, turn it inside out and give it back to me absolutely transformed.
It was The Belgariad that opened my eyes to fantasy, and to the reality of unreality. Without it, I'd have never read Lord of The Rings, or explored the Discworld. I'd have never opened my brain to the likes of Neil Gaiman, and I'd be a poorer person for it.

Rest in peace, David. You were utterly brilliant, and you've left us a legacy that shines.

  • Current Mood
    depressed devastated
british, boots

'And, lo, so it came to pass, Jez got off her ass and got broadband in her new house.'

Yes indeed, after having moved into my new house and said at least 3 times a week since October that I needed to get the internet in my new house, I finally did it.
And it's lovely. I can check email, and watch the BBC for the news, and do research for work, and arrange  for the plumber to come to my new house and of course, LJ can creep back out af the ether and chew absently on my cerebrum for evermore.

So anyway, I'm still here, in my new house I'm still grouchy, sarky, prone to hysterics, likely to be more worried about everyone else than myself and still completely totally bat-shit crazy bonkers madMADMAD.

Jez  x

Oh, and did I mention,  I bought a house?

  • Current Mood
    peaceful peaceful
going mad

SMS stand for Strange Mad ...something else

Or, 'What happens when my cracked brain, and the cracked brain of my very best friend, spills out in text message form.'

Right, so lily_st_regis  and I have a tendency to watch mad TV programmes. Currently, the ‘House Of Crack Fuelled Programming’ that is ITV is showing a series called ‘Lost In Austen’, where a girl not all together dissimilar from ourselves finds a door in her bathroom, and ends up in the middle of Pride and Prejudice.

Honestly, it is a real show, I promise.

Anyway, I’m English, female and single. Pride and Prejudice is practically my second bible. Therefore, I want an invisible magical door next to my toilet that deposits me amongst the fictional inhabitants of classic literature. Like any other sensible girl, so does Lily, which is Collapse )
(Bonus points for anyone who can spot all of the pop-culture references. We’re actually turning into the Gilmore Girls, it’s a little worrying.)