Wednesday, December 28, 2011

After getting a comment on my old costume post (muchas gracias, Kiwi), I thought I should update it.
When I was in the initial throes of costuming, it was winter. When winter hits, I always feel like it'll never end. Thus, I went with the gorgeous, but not-so-practical-for-summer, steampunk awesome costume.
I also came to the conclusion that my bank account would be attacked gruesomely if I went like a lonely loner down that lonely road.
So I have changed it again, mwahahahaha.
Ha.

Basically, this time I've decided to go with a Little Red Riding Hood costume. I was going to go Amanda Seyfried style, but practicality won out. (I am uncoordinated at the best of times, and dancing in heels with a floor length gown and cape isn't the cleverest concept.) The cape - made from a deliciously deep red - hits somewhere between mid-thigh and knee, and falls beautifully. I doubled up the fabric on the hood, so it's quite heavy, but it sits nicely as well. Under this, I'll be wearing an old white shirt of mine that I'm currently trying to reconfigure into an off-the-shoulder blouse, plus an old black skirt of mine and a black, sort of corset-inspired, belt.
Makeup, I plan on doing winged eyeliner and red lips. I trialled the lipstick at Christmas (being a general fail at makeup) and I now have to figure out how to make it last. Eating absolutely destroyed the lips.

Battery decreasing, my charger is over thataway, so I shall update with pics in a few days.


Monday, December 19, 2011

Because there's half an hour to go, I'm rounding up. Down? Down.
(I was never born to do maths.)
It's five days until Christmas. This is particularly alarming to me. This is my last year as a teenager. My last Christmas as a teenager.
I know that I'm technically an adult in the eyes of the government (such fools you are, government) but it sort of feels weird. In about 3 months, I'm twenty years old. It has gone pretty darn fast.

But that's not the point to this post.
Basically, a thing of note (cue shoddy iPhone formatting):
• There are shenanigans happening on the Christmas charts in England. Mr Alex Day, that guy I've written about, is attempting to become the first unsigned artist to reach number one for Christmas. Or something. I've been paying bucketloads of attention to the technicalities, but basically if you buy the song, proceeds go to charity, Alex wins the Internet.
IT'S LIKE BILLY MACK BEATING BLUE ALL OVER AGAIN.

You should do things, and I should link to things. Make all our lives easier.
I hope that link works. Go forth and do things.

So this year has been pretty fun. I'm sort of wanting to curl up in this house forever, but degrees are needed. You know why? Because the second I get my degree, I am flinging myself onto a plane and becoming an Englishlady.

Bring on 2012, bring on Christmas, bring on a no 1, and bring on the hordes of customers awaiting me tomorrow.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

That time again. Naturally.

No, I don't mean Christmas. I feel surprisingly organised for that (a miracle in and of itself).
It's time for packing.
Never mind that I'm not actually moving to the new place until January, or later. The 20-plus people we have staying at Christmas have ensured that not only am I literally sleeping outside with the dogs (a childhood dream fulfilled), but that I have to remove all of my books from my room.
All the books, contained in labelled boxes. Gargh.
This time, I'm being organised, despite what those boxes suggest. (My room no longer looks like that. Everything is as neat as it can be, considering there are thirteen boxes shoved against a cabinet.) I have decided to effectively double my packing time by making lists of exactly what book is in each box, and labelling each box prominently. I am no longer packing books into flimsy chip packet boxes. I am packing them into sturdy book boxes (Random and Harper, I love you), and so far no Spanish dictionaries have come exploding from the sides to kill me.
Also, this year it was a lot easier to get a hold of boxes.

SCENE: My workplace.
ME: Mandy, do you mind if I take these boxes home? Mum wants me to start packing.
MANDY: [practically weeping in gratitude] YES. Take them with you. Take them all! Please. Just get rid of them. I don't want them.

The advantage of my workplace is that we also sell DVDs. This year, I have three Roadshow boxes with my DVDs perfectly snug inside. This may not seem like much, but I had to run and show Mum when I started packing. "Look, Mum! They fit perfectly!"
"... right..."
"How do you not care about this?!"

So on Saturday - or Sunday, depends on what the parentals feel like doing - my books and DVDs will be making the 2hr journey to my new home. I actually haven't seen my new home, except for in pictures. I have the smallest, security-screened windowed, room. NO MURDERERS WILL BE GETTING ME. My parents are buying me a TV (I asked if I could swap this for a corset, seeing as I have a perfectly functional TV, but they said no), and while I'm down here, I'm also not paying rent. Due to some other shenanigans, Nick is habitating my room until I'm up there. And he's paying my rent instead.
Quietly, I was freaking out over that. I didn't want to be spending $270 a week. God is pretty amazing, in how He works stuff out.

And now I'm getting distracted.
Post end, I think. Au revoir, little biscuits!