01 February, 2012

Back on track (and ANECDOTES!)

First of all, readers, I must hasten to as for your forgiveness. My cumulative post total so far this year has been shockingly bad, and I really should apologise; what little posts I have deigned to write have mostly been self-indulgent crap, basically. Sorry to anyone offended.
But this all serves to remind me that really, I have an awful lot to be happy for, and I am pretty happy at the moment so. I'm not going to waste any more time, or any more of YOUR time, readers; because I know time is precious, and if you choose to spend yours reading my brain-words, then I could at least have the decency to make it worthwhile.
However; allow me just one last, self-indulgent, emotionally-charged drama...
You're hurting? Good.

That's better! Now, where were we? Ah, yes, next on the agenda (that reminds me, I really should get my school council badge at some point...thaaaaaanks, blog *cheesy grin* *thumbs up*), anecdotes.
I know you probably find this hard to believe dear readers, but at least once every day a moment of upmost comedy occurs, and makes me inexplicably happy for the rest of the day. Two such incidents, I would now like to recall with you. *This would work so much better with a glass of wine, a roaring fire and a cosy armchair*. So, the first. Well, on Monday night, I was knelt adoringly at my parent's feet as they sat on the sofa and exchanged various witticisms regarding their days, and I chupped in with one of mine; it went, that I was sat in french that morning when a random thought occured. Our tumble dryer, I should explain, is housed in the shed in the garden. Until recently (i.e French on Monday), I hadn't really given much thought as to how it was powered. It was only when I was making my lunch that morning that I noticed an errant plug trailing against the wall, up the side of the window, outside, and round the corner of the house. In French, I realised that it was the power lead for the tumble dryer to tumble!!! Until then? I had assumed, naturally, that it was battery-powered...AA's, that is, not even 9V's...oh, the absolute shame of it.
My second anecdote? Possibly less humourous...or more so, it depends if you thrive on human misery. If so (you're like me), congratulations! You are entirely NORMAL. Well done. What do you want, a medal? No? A cake? No. I haven't got time. No, seriously. Honestly, just, just go away. Seriously. Go. Now.

Yes, so, the second story. Recently, I did an English exam, of the speaking variety. Now, as I'm sure many of you will empathise with, public speaking curdles the very liquid in my stomach-bag. However, getting that A* is even more important to me than holding on to my breakfast juice (and seriously guys, if you've never had orange and mango juice, get some. Like, right now. Oh my sweet Christ :3), so I gave it a shot. I won't go into the intricacies, but what I will say is that I came back down, and I really felt like I'd properly messed. It. Up. However, I pushed forward...it was fine, I was okay. And I got my results back yesterday, 14/15 which was very, very roughly equivalent to an A*...now, baring in mind this was an actual GCSE graded exam, I was really happy. So, please don't assume that I'm bitching because I didn't get full marks; there were some speakers who were ten times better than me, and for whatever reason, scored three, four, five marks lower, so I'm definitely happy. So yeah; as my English teacher came round to confer with us, her class, I smiled up at her (and I've just realised that she assume I was ticked off...hell's bells, even my happy face is one of absolute displeasure at life...) as she aproached me. ''Ahh, yes,'' she began, rather awkwardly, ''Now, you see Beth, you would've scored full marks in your exam, had you not had those annoying mannerisms of yours...particularly, the ones in your face...''. Well, I was astounded. My immediate response? ''Sorry if I'm too ugly!!''. I told my parents later that evening, and I think they were more irritated then they were amused, which wasn't my intention; I really don't care what some jumped-up, over-qualified teacher thinks of me, or my face. So, I press on, every day. With my ugly face, and my stupid, befuddled brain.

And so far, it's working!!!
I love you all.

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