New shoes based on Barbarella...

what am I doing here.

"I'm so sorry.... the train was late."
this has become my favourite phrase/getoutofjailfreecard at the moment in university. whether the alarm clock didn't go off or you were just to plane lazy to get out of bed... this seems to have the right amount of simplicity and believability to it that the "teachers" (and i use the term lightly) fall for. i think that half of my class now uses the term "the train was late" or "the train might be late tomorrow," if they think they might want a bit more sleep. I remember waltzing in one ungodly cold morning in November when i was greeted by a technician and also our very own in-house scrooge (Dawn) to be welcomed with the opening line, "you better move faster or your balls might just freeze and drop off," she said very nonchalantly, shuffling off down the long carpeted hallway with windows the size of freight trains, being neither glazed, coated, or most likely, not even containing glass. Dawn, or Dawny as some people refer to her as, always moved with a sort of the "the world will be ending soon" swagger and had the THICKEST Northampton accent you will ever hear ( think Alan Carr).
I loved her tho. you could never not want to see her even if it was just for the impeccably timed bursts of Reality she would utter. "God its freezing," or "Who knows what will happen.... most likely it will end up S***," were some of her favourites.
"You do know we have a ghost," she said, with a flicker in her eyes as if trying to scare the students gave her some sort of sick pleasure, "And she lurks right down the Fashion hallway where the right corner is."

"How do you know," i asked somewhat amused and intrigued.

"Well you know how this building is very confusing to move around???" she waited with eyes squinted looking for a glimmer of premonition, "that's because it use to be a mental hospital."

Just for the Record... this Building has had quite a few very diverse lives according to the group of technicians, who you can see gather in small room over lunch breaks and hear cackle and gurgle away for an hour or so and then disperse like a whisper in the wind. It has been a mental hospital, a prison, an army barrack, secret government testing building, and a morgue not to mention now a university.

"she use to be a patient they say, and she killed her husband and ate his heart," she said with her teeth clenched and her face snarling.

At this point i think i started to snort with laughter, not because of the story, but because she really wanted me to believe her!

"ah well.... i never met a man who didn't deserve having his heart eaten," was her last comment as she stood up and swayed out the room.

Ive never seen this ghost.... i probable never will, but if i do, i think i might just stop and have a chat.

Dont mess with sharks.... they bite.

Work for Cheaney's and Goldline

Working tings.

university

HA! well.... erm...... ya uni.... I think the problem is that i still want to go back outside and build a dam in the creek that used to flow behind our house in North Carolina. For almost nine years (i think) i would take a shovel and a bucket with a broken handle down the long ass hill that our house was built on and toil for hours on end to build, in my eyes, the greatest modern marvel of architecture ever seen in the form of a mud dam. You had to find the right space to build this creation because if you didnt you would simply spend hours hurling mud into water without any progress.... there was this one spot that was perfect! it was really shallow and funnled so that all the water had to pass through one point. Me, and ofter my childhood freind Truman, would shovel the mud furiously into position in order to hold back the tides and in doing so, would eventually create a dam that would come up to our hips (and me having been 6 foot 5 exiting the womb, you can see how it was quite an achivement). Quite a few times if i remember correctly we would then crack the dam to watch the water tear it apart but would forget where we were standing.... directly in front.... then the long ass hike back up the hill to surrend ourselfs to mommies disaproving eyes. Yes, there were so many good times to look back on like trying to make my red and white striped radio flyer wagon break through the sound barrier racing down the long ass hill, or trying to make it fly with small trees we stuck out either side and attaching curtians to it. I just remember shouting as i steered the wagon down the Hill at formula 1 speeds towards a stone wall, "PUMP HARDER," to Truman who would have had been waving the "wings" up and down and as hard as he could. Or possibly the countless times My sister, the Gift girls (Jennifer&Rebecca), and I, playing dress up. Looking back now on those stories we played i can see how much of a drama queen was forming in me. Our favorite story being "the trail of tears", a historically acurrat reinactment of the march  the native american inndians had to go through from western north caroline to oklahoma i think..... anyway.... my sister was always the lead indian along with the gift girls filling in as multiple different women ( where the male indians had gone i have no idea... i think they marched the other way) And I...................... I was the pet monkey. who had been caught up in a hurrican of the coast of madagascar and swept into the path of the travling indians somewhere around Kentucky.

....... I think i got a bit carried away........

anyway... now im here. Uni. where has time gone to? im sitting on my bed thinking about all the adventures ive had so far, im happy in the one im in now, cant wait for the next one and im so glad that i have the next bit to go through with you! :D (que the sappy violin music)