Troma Night tonight is at The Cottage. We’ll be kicking off at the earlier-than-usual time of 7pm to watch the first episode of the new series of Dr. Who. At 8pm, we’ll start again, with Sex Madness, a short film from 1938 that acts as a cautionary tale against the dangers of parties, pre-marital sex, and lesbianism. Our original proposal after this was to watch the stunningly bad surreal sci-fi comedy that is Tank Girl as part of an ongoing plan to see every bad guy role that Malcolm McDowell has ever played, but we’re having difficulty getting hold of a copy (anybody else got one?), so we might be watching new comedy Stranger Than Fiction instead. In any case, that’s liable to leave us open to a third option, for which suggestions are welcome. MST3K, perhaps?
Month: March 2007
Another Window To Dan’s Subconscious
As you know by now, I enjoy sharing with you all the more memorable of my typically trippy little nocturnal slideshows. I didn’t sleep well last night, but between waking up at strange intervals I recall the following fragments of dream, which my near-waking brain has somehow tried to wrap together into a single episode with strange jumpy “scene changes.”
Here’s what I dreamt:
Claire, Bryn, Liz and I were camping, sharing a large tent in a campsite somewhere summery and green (think I’ve dreamt of camping in the same place before; can’t remember when). We were in the central “communal” area of the tent, brightly lit from the sun shining through the walls, when Penny arrived. Somehow we ended up taking turns to dare Penny into removing articles of clothing, but only so far before – to everybody else’s disappointment – she stopped playing.
Instead, the five of us trekked out of the campsite, climbed a wall, and found ourselves in a village. We went to the village station and boarded an express train, and I found that I was the driver. I was only a trainee driver, however, and my actions were being supervised by Simon (my boss), also in the cab, who generally seemed approving of how I was doing. At some point, a seagull crapped on the windscreen, which somehow resulted in bird shit landing on the controls of the train, which Simon didn’t approve of, and I hastily cleaned it up with paper towel.
The train arrived at a city (somewhat reminiscent of Manchester), and I rejoined Bryn, Claire and Liz on the platform (not sure where Penny had disappeared to; seemed to make sense at the time), and they indicated that there was somewhere in the city we were supposed to go, but I told them that I knew the way and I’d catch up, because I had something else I needed to do first. I took a left off a main street where they carried on, and entered a shopping centre. It was dark outside now, and I was surprised that this shopping centre was open so late. All of the shops were still open, but that wasn’t what I was here for.
I got into an elevator alongside a smartly-dressed woman. She pressed the button for the second floor. The elevator stopped at the first floor, revealing a restaurant above the shops. People tried to get in, but the woman in the lift said that she was going up, not down, and they stayed out. The woman seemed surprised that I didn’t get out. When we got to the second floor (filled with offices), she challenged me, asking what business I had up there. I used a little cold reading and a name-drop to sufficiently confuse her into thinking that I had some right to be there, and she left me alone.
Exploring the offices, most of which were empty and dark, I came across the left-on abandoned laptop of somebody who I suspected was the alias of a superhero (see, I’m smarter than Lois Lane!), and I tried to sift through the data on their computer to find evidence for this hypothesis. Realising that I was running out of time before I was found here, I tried to find a writeable CD or a flash drive or something to which I could copy the data I was uncovering, but hadn’t had much luck before Claire leapt out of bed and asked me a question about her dressing gown, which woke me for the last time.
And for some reason, I woke up humming Eiffel 65’s The Past Is Gone. Very odd.
So, after that – another trip into the somewhat fragmented world of my subconscious – I’d better get on with some work.
A Good, Long, Troma Night
Last Saturday’s Troma Night was really great: it’s been a long time since we’ve had such a long, energetic Troma Night. We opened with They’re Made Out Of Meat, a very short film we’d discovered on YouTube almost a year ago. We followed with Ele‘s recommendation, Serial Mom, the ludicrous Reign Of Fire (with an accompanying RiffTrax to make it bearable), and finished with the takes-itself-too-seriously drama Wedlock just shortly after the clocks went forward.
Thanks to everybody who came, especially those who battled through to the end and put up with the lost pizza delivery guy (I wish Hollywood Pizza’s staff turnover wasn’t quite so bad that we had to keep re-training the drivers that there is a library in town and that we don’t live on the University campus).
Many, Many Letters About My One Letter…
I’m not sure I’ve ever sent out so many letters in one batch before, but this morning I sent letters to my credit card company, the Inland Revenue, the National Insurance Contributions Office, my electricity company, my gas supplier, my water/sewerage supplier, my mobile phone company, my telephone company, my ISP, the TV Licensing Authority, the local council, and the Electoral Office. And there’s still half a dozen other organisations who won’t accept a photocopy of a Deed Poll certificate without at least taking a peep at an original, and a couple of local people around Aber (my letting agency, doctor, etc.) that I’ll just call by at lunchtime.
For those of you who plan to change your name at some point during your life – I’m looking in particular at Ruth, Suz, Hayley, etc. – here’s a tip: mail merge is your friend. Start by making a list of all the addresses you need to inform, and have your favourite word processor generate a template letter, then manually adjust the ones that need tweaking (to put account numbers on some or to make special requests on others). It won’t save a lot of time, but it’ll make you feel better about the whole thing.
A civil servant friend informs me that the Tax Credits database isn’t capable of storing surnames of only one character. I’ve no intention of needing to be on the Tax Credits database, but it’s an interesting point for database developers anyway.
Right; I’m feeling productive – better get back to work before the feeling passes.
De-Stressing
Now that Paul and I have finished our work with the Student Skills Competition, I’ve recovered (mostly) from my cold, and the conversation I’d been apprehensive about this morning is over with, a lot of the stress I was experiencing earlier in the week
has become managable again. There’s still plenty on, but it’s all looking a bit more pleasant from here on.
I just wanted to say a big thank you to everybody who put up with me while I was being unpleasant, and a particular thank you to Ele, who picked exactly the right moment to give me a hug and a Kinder Surprise Egg, the toy from which I’ve just now got around to building (busy? me? never…)
In order that I don’t just fill Abnib with cliché crap about the various ups and downs of my life, here’s a fun link: Warbears is a wonderful Flash puzzle/memory game that distracted me for a long time while I worked out how to finish even the first mission. Have a play.
An Experiment I Want To Try
Scott Adams has just written an article proposing an experiment that I’d like to try. Research has shown that people are significantly more likely to believe something that conflicted with their previous beliefs if they write about it: in the experiments that lead to this discovery, volunteers were asked to write about a viewpoint other than their own on a given issue, and it was observed that within a few months there was a reasonable likelyhood that they had changed their beliefs to those they justified in writing. It turns out that making people read about a point of view is not nearly so effective at persuading them to adopt it as making them write an argument for it does.
This experiment involves standing around somewhere with a clipboard and offering a token reward (a quid, or a chocolate bar, or something) in exchange for participating in a study into handwriting when writing lies (this isn’t actually what we’re doing, but hey…). Participants are asked to write a couple of sentences about how attractive the experimenter is, and, if they’re willing to be contacted about "further research," to leave their e-mail address or phone number (on an appropriately laid-out form).
Some time later, the experimenter will have a list of contact details for people, many of whom will find the experimenter more attractive than they did when they first met. It’s an instant "little black book."
Who’s A Little Stresspuppy? Is It Me? Is It?
Argh bluh fuckshit arsebanditwankers.
Work stuff. Tuesday stuff. Home stuff. Student Skills Competition stuff. Name change stuff. Bills, code, letters and stuff that chases them all.
Suddenly finding yourself using skills you probably should have forgotten. Drinking the wrong amount. Eating the wrong amount. Being ill for a whole weekend and a bit. The wrong music
for the wrong feelings. Fuck ’em all. Too many conversations that’ll be too hard and all at the wrong times. Stupid fucking mistakes long ago raising their ugly little heads. All
heaping up into a pile I feel like I’m hiding behind in a lonely little place, all by myself even when I’m not. Ah; fuck it all.
So; that’s the summary of the shittier, more stress-inducing bits of my week, conveniently shrunk to a smaller font size and faded to a lighter colour as part of an effort to pretend that none of it’s a problem and for the benefit of readers who quite rightly don’t give a shit. If I’m bad company, I’m sorry, but I’m only so sorry as I can muster the energy to be.
I’ll pull myself together – it’s on my list – but that’s next week’s job. For the time being, you’ll have to quicklime your own corpses: I’ve got too many to do already.
Right; on with the list. Oh; and don’t forget to support your department at the Student Skills Competition tomorrow.
…Sitting In A Pub, K-I-S-S-I-N… Ub?
My apologies to anybody who – through kissing, licking, finger-sucking or just by sharing drinks – last night, I have infected with the cold I’ve got.
On the other hand, a good night out. Who knew that Tom would be such a great song-and-dance man? Or that Helen could have so many birthdays in a single night?
More to say, but for now I’ve got work to catch up on…
Kid Radd
Have just read Kid Radd, a webcomic that ran for a few years awhile back. It’s a story told from the perspective of – and through the medium of – retro video game sprites. And it rocks. It’s moderately funny and sometimes clever, but it’s full of fantastic random geekery that tickled me quite a bit (jokes about lazy programming and the effects these have on anthropomorphic game characters when they’re transplanted into different environments, for example).
In any case, it pleased me, and if it might please you, give it a go too. Use of Firefox highly recommended.
Plans For The Weekend
Paul‘s outlined the plans for the weekend, but I’ll repeat and elaborate on them here for the benefit of anybody who might read my blog but not his (who is that, anyway?). And ‘cos people are probably used to me announcing this kind of crap by now.
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Visitors – There are people visiting! Jen‘s brother, Gareth, and Liz are all expected to appear at some point (Jen’s brother’s in town already, sources indicate).
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Friday, 7pm – Hot Fuzz at the Commodore Cinema. As far as I know, we’re still looking for somebody to volunteer to stand in the queue to ensure that everybody who wants tickets gets them.
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Saturday, midday – Meet at the top of Pen Dinas at noon for a surprise random Paul-kind-of event. No, none of us have a clue what it is, either. Claire and I will be leaving The Cottage at about 11:15am and picking up Jimmy from Mill Street on the way past, if anybody wants to walk with us. Apparently this event will only take a few minutes, after which – particularly if it’s cold – we could retire into The Fountain for a sly early-afternoon pint before we get on with whatever else we’re doing with the day. If you want to join Claire and I, be at The Cottage by 11am!
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Saturday, 8pm – Troma Night at The Cottage. With the extra anticipated visitors, I’ll be putting out more chairs, but ther’s still likely to be a fight for the softest seats and those with the best view: bring a cushion if you’re running late. A St. Patrick’s Day theme has been proposed, but it’s Paul’s birthday, so he’s got final say, and we’re currently looking at Dark Side Of The Rainbow (The Wizard Of Oz set to the tune of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon – it’s quite remarkable: if you haven’t seen it before, don’t read anything about it, as we feel you’ll appreciate it better that way), Serial Mom (on Ele’s recommendation), and something else yet to be finalised.
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Sunday, 10am – Gather at the Aberystwyth Arts Centre for a free screening of a mystery film, courtesy of Paul and Gareth (not gay variety).
- Sunday, early afternoon – Sunday lunch at some pub, anybody? Call me or drop by The Cottage about Sunday midday if you want to join in. I’ll be working with Gareth (not, not, not gay variety) most of the day, and if we aren’t distracted by food and beer, we’ll just keep on hacking.
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Sunday, 7pm – Crystal Maze Night at The Cottage. We’ll be finishing off the first series and getting started on the second, so BYOB and be ready to cheer for the most retarded team members.
Now you can’t say I didn’t tell you.
Wanted: Wingman
Wanted: Tech Support Wingman For Student Skills Competition
Owing to a change in career plans by the previous position holder, a vacancy has opened for a Tech Support Wingmanf for the 2007 Student Skills Competition. The successful applicant will ideally be a confident computer user and a good communicator, and be comfortable with working in a backstage environment. First-hand experience of the Student Skills Competition would be an advantage.
Your role will be in assisting Dan Q with the running of the technical elements of the Student Skills Competition, including: shouting at students who run through the “forbidden zone” between the projector and the back of the screen, shouting at students who try to make ammendments to their presentations 5 minutes before they’re performing, shouting at students who give us useless cue points, shouting at students who write their entire presentation in Powerpoint using Comic Sans MS and with stupid fucking pointless sound effects and animations. Oh, and also helping to run the thing. It’s fun, honest.
The contract is for a fixed-term position covering exactly two days: Monday 19th and Wednesday 21st. There is a token payment available, but you’ll be working mostly for love and maybe a book token, not money (although winning teams may offer to buy you a beer for your help, too).
Apply or ask questions by blog comments or by e-mail. The closing date for applications is midday on Friday 16th March.
Heroes Night?
Following the recommendation (LJ friends-only) given by Rory the other day, I’ve acquired the first few episodes of "Heroes." Anyone who fancies it ought to gather at The Cottage this evening and we’ll see if it’s any good (i.e. good enough to keep us amused in-between Crystal Maze Night and Troma Night, now there isn’t any American Dad, Drawn Together, or Studio 60 to keep us busy).
Invisible Girl
Last night I met the most invisible person ever. She was sat in the Ship & Castle with some of the regulars when I introduced myself. "Yeah, we’ve already met," she said. Some way later into a conversation, we’d determined:
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I’d seen her before at the Ship & Castle, and looked right through her.
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She’d served me breakfast a few days ago, at the Treehouse.
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And we did some voluntary work together when we were both students.
Even after all of this, I wasn’t sure I recognised her until I went home and found a photo with her in! I apologised profusely, but she genuinely didn’t care that she’s seemingly able to turn invisible: in actual fact, she seems to like and has come to expect it. We made a comparison to that Buffy episode where lots of people ignore this girl and she turns invisible and starts killing people. She promised not to start killing people. That’s kind-of reassuring. She doesn’t look particularly strong, but I don’t want to get on the wrong side of anybody who I can’t see.
Personally, I’d hate being so unobvious: I love being able to be "seen" when I want to be, so it was hard for me to understand the attraction. Perhaps she’s just resigned to it after decades of being ignored.
Treehouse Breakfast; Q (Again); Troma Night
Claire, Jimmy, Paul and I just had breakfast at The Treehouse. They were doing an "all you can eat" Fair Tade buffet – basically; heaps of muesli, organic bananas, breads, and other hippy goodies. It was nice to do something different, but I’m not sure it was worth the fiver it cost.
Overheard a conversation from the table next to us, somebody saying something I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody say before: "That’s the trouble with Aberystwyth: there’s always so much to do!" There’s something you don’t hear every day.
In other news, amongst the many wonderful comments we’ve received in response to the blog post about Claire and I’s name change, there’s a particularly nasty one that’s appeared, too. Sadly the sender has chosen to remain anonymous (Why do people do that? I’ve never really understood…) but the most likely suspect’s pretty obvious anyhow. Anyway: just wanted to say thank you to everybody who’s commented on the name change, whether on the blog post, by IRC, over the phone, in person, by text message, or whatever else: it’s great to get some feedback. Also thanks to the various people who’ve been appropriately "fixing" our presences in various wikis!
Troma Night tonight is at The Cottage. Usual drill.
A New Generation Of Grafitti
For the second time today, I saw some grafitti which contained a myspace URL. Is this what all the cool kids are doing these days? It’s just that it seems to me, with many of these pages containing full names and photographs, that this might be a bad strategy when you’re doing something illegal. Just a thought.
Received my first bit of post addressed to my new name, today: a card from my mum (with the right address this time). The card reads "9 today", but it’s been adapted so that it’s instead "q today", and generally contains congratulations for and admiration of Claireand I and our unusual and unexpected name change.
Additional: Apparently we recieved a a second bit of post addressed to "Q" today: a bottle of champagne from Ruth and JTA. Thank you both very much, that’s very sweet of you.