Houston, we have a connection!

I answered the door at 1AM Thursday night to a drunk muslim, and it was really odd. He pleaded for help in locating a good muslim family because "you people would not understand". First off, we know lots about being drunk, and secondly, is he permitted to drink? Anyhoo, I tried to help him, asked him if he was lost, where he needed to be. Just kept saying he was from Dubai...asking me if I was from Dubai and telling me that I should be covered up. My boyfriend got out of bed to see what was going on, and the guy was very pleased he could talk to the man of the house. Asked where the nearest mosque was, and it became clear he was probably from the area because apparently the mosque we suggested is for Bengalis, and they, in his opinion are rubbish. Demanded to be pointed in the direction of the mosque of Abu Hamza. Needless to say we apologised we couldnt help and closed the door. Im not all that sure, but looking back maybe he was a local that got very drunk and fancied a bit of a fight. All he managed to do was confuse us into submission. After that I was told not to answer the door to strangers anymore. Next morning, I answered the door to a stranger again. This time it was a lady from Mcvities who knocked so we could try out some new biscuits for some market research. Ive never been asked so many things about biscuits in general. But now Im aware of the pros and cons of answering the door.

Oh, and my boyfriend just found out he didnt get his radio scholarship so hes very bummed out. And this is very bad news because it probably means he will have to return home to Birmingham for the forseeable future, and I really dont like that at all.     

Hmm, my journal is probably going to be down for a while because my home computer is not playing ball. I suppose its a good thing with it being the end of the uni year, what with there being no fun stuff to distract me while Im typing up stuff. Im pretty excited about my end of year exhibition and photographing some bands for a good cause. Finding a new house is being an utter bastard. Weird bands keep trying to add me on My Space. This is what I get for being bullied into joining and eventually getting a faint addiction. Oh the shame. I hope everybody is doing very, very well.

So, I was sat watching Planets Funniest Animals (a lie if ever I heard one) with my boyfriend this morning while we moaned about the clips not being funny and even slightly disturbing - that is up until they showed one of a chicken "dancing". It was on for a good five seconds with no reaction from either of us, then suddenly I laughed so hard at it I spat my tea out. And then laughed until I cried. Infact just thinking about it now is making me smile. Im sure there is some worrying and very deep psychological reason for my reaction and Im frightening myself.

We looked at out first prospective new student house yesterday and it looks like we've all been won over with the electric yard door that was installed. That power is totally going to be abused.

The one and only time Im alive and dressed to be in lesson on time with work in my hand ready for its actual hand in date, half the north east is on strike without letting me in on it.....the postman, my mam, the toll booth operators, MY LECTURERS! They're probably at some costal resort, smoking doobies on a group outing as I type.

Oh well, at least Ive got another day to screw around and avoiding cleaning up. Ive just been invited to the pub to join my friends and possibly half of the "striking" work force in a communal effort to hold up the bar. Hurrah!

I took one look at my 200 and odd CDs that need putting back in their cases and thought it'd probably be better if I watched Neighbours. And I was right, it was way more fun!

Just starting an essay on some artists ( http://www.zatorskiandzatorski.com/ ) I had to visit in Durham a few weeks back, they were a married couple with loads of stuffed animals everywhere and a bunch of canaries in an avery full of book cases with philosophy books on for the birds to nest in. They showed me two films, one of a wasp dying on its back really slowly and one of a butterfly brutally murdering another (apperently this is a mega rare  thing to happen) on some naked womans stomach! I was not a happy bunny. Then they told us we might as well have been watching ourselves die because our death would be just as futile. They really have a way with people! Needless to say I went directly to the nearest pub for a good strong ale.

Anyway, back to work....

(P.S - just found out that Mrs Angel Zatorski is manager/spokewoman of a sex shop called Sh! in London. Damn, I wish my life was as interesting as hers!)

Today is Lucys Big Day Off. I have grand plans to tidy my room, make some mix CDs, go into town to paint my studio and finally start my entry for the childrens writers competition. So far Ive managed to have four cups of tea, shout at the idiots on Jeremy Kyle and visit here because an advert told me to.

You have to admire my aversion tactics.

I need to think of something pretty good to make my boyfriend like me again. Im in trouble because I left his house on Thursday night to go see some bands and didnt return until 6am, Friday time, when he had to let me in. And he had to be up for a presentation at 8 (although Im protesting my innocence about not knowing that). I know its going to sound crazy, but I just didnt think he'd be bothered that I was out galavanting. In my drunken head its possible I imagined he'd just see me as a loveable scamp. I blame Red Strike, their drummer was drinking vodka through his eye most of the night. Hardcore.

Oh, and you know those crazy ladies who feed the pigeons in the park?

 They let me join their crazy gang.