My new favourite website

All of you are hereby ordered to look at http://lookatthisfuckinghipster.tumblr.com/ and then laugh like idiots. I mean really, how cool is this guy?!


"why yes, i do have ironic pubic hair."

For those losing faith in the goodness of humanity.

The Tweenbot is a cardboard-bodied, human-dependent robot that navigates the city with the help of pedestrians they encounter. Tweenbot has equipped with a flag stating its intended destination, and rely on people they meet to read this flag and to aim them in the right direction to reach their goal. Kacie Kinzer, the student of Tisch School of the Arts created the tweenbot for his art experiment.
"Given their extreme vulnerability, the vastness of city space, the dangers posed by traffic, suspicion of terrorism, and the possibility that no one would be interested in helping a lost little robot...

The results were unexpected. Over the course of the following months, throughout numerous missions, the Tweenbots were successful in rolling from their start point to their far-away destination assisted only by strangers. Every time the robot got caught under a park bench, ground futilely against a curb, or became trapped in a pothole, some passerby would always rescue it and send it toward its goal. Never once was a Tweenbot lost or damaged. Often, people would ignore the instructions to aim the Tweenbot in the 'right' direction, if that direction meant sending the robot into a perilous situation. One man turned the robot back in the direction from which it had just come, saying out loud to the Tweenbot, "You can't go that way, it's toward the road."


Oh, I love this world.

The Fair Youth

So back in October my friend Alex wrot me a poem, which was lovely, if a little on the dirty side. I've been mocking him recently because it seems the only things he ever reads out that he has written are kind of in the same vein, so he set himself the chllenge of writing me a sonnet. Something clean and nice and sweet insted of perverse. He started writing it while we were in the pub. Here's the finished thing.

The Fair Youth

She dresses like she works for sugaRAPE,
And she confuses me most of the time,
Laughs like Muttley, Smirks like a Pirate,
But this short-haired pixie that makes me rhyme,
Intrigues me more than any catwalk bint,
Could ever hope to catch my wandering eye,
Without her foulness and her cheeky glint,
Those throat-drying legs that make my soul sigh,
Wears her hair how she wants- she wears it well,
Flirts like a sailor and swears like one too,
This fire in my heart I’ve no wish to quell,
When butterflies squirm at her wolf-dance moves,
Some call it her style, but I call it art,
I lost my mind, and she stole my heart.

Isn't it lovely? (for any of you that don't know, sugaRAPE is a made up magazine from Nathan Brley, an awesome comedy show from a couple of years ago.)
It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Happy Easter weekend.
x

Validation

Another video from "Smart Bitches love Trashy Books," this one is 17 minutes of pure, unadulterated happiness. It's adorable short-filmmaking and i demand you watch it the whole way through at least once!



Don't you feel better now? You. You are great.

Only in Wales...

I just found this video on a blog called "Smart Bitches love Trashy Books," a link i clicked on because i physically couldn't not. The very first thing on the page was this video, which has nothing to do with smart bitches or trashy books, but which is amazing none the less.



Well done Baa Studs, you officially brightened up my rainy friday.

Happy Mother's day.

I've said it before and i'll say it again. My mum is cool.


All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his. ~Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest, 1895

For once i disagree with Oscar. If i grow up to be like my mum then i will have succeeded in so many ways.
I love her.

Come, my magic stomach...

Yesterday was my lovely big brother's 22nd birthday. I find this unbelievable, since i remember making him a sticker for his 7th birthday with a big number 7 on it, because that seemed like really old to me.


Simon and i are pretty close, i talk to him via text, facebook, msn or phone a couple of times a day, and this weekend i get to shoot him with a paintball gun. He's my big brother and i love him, even though his feet always smell faintly of TCP, and he likes to beat me up in public.




Today was my beautiful and charming Virtual godmother's birthday. She's Simon's actual godmother, but she looks after me and as we talk mainly over the internet, the virtual tag kind of stuck. She tells awesome bedtime stories and is the person who first told me about Phillip Pullman, and Freaks and Geeks, and all kinds of other very cool things.


I love her because she's not just my mum's friend who talks to me when my mum's around, she's my friend, and we talk about stuff that my mum doesn't, like Buffy and Coconut Records. We are friends on our own terms, and i hope that never changes.


I hope they both had lovely birthdays, because they both make my time on earth happier by hanging out in it with me.

When I'm 64...

When i get old i've decided that I'm gonna be like Maud from Harold and Maude, but living in the city, and without the pubescent boy toy. When i'm old, my husband will look and dress like this


and i will still wear high heels and have iron grey hair and we will drink espresso or peroni at sidewalk cafes and we will laugh.

Any Savage can Dance

Yesterday at write club hardly anyone brought anything to read, so we did a writing exercise. Basically we all thought of a theme or sentence, and then wrote about it. The sentence the group came up with was "any savage can dance," a thought expressed by Mr Darcy in Pride and Prejudice. We then had 5 minutes to write something based around that idea. I was pretty pleased with what i came up with, so i thought i'd post it. It's not very long, and completely unedited, so you get to see how my brain works under creative pressure to produce. Hope you like it.

Any Savage Can Dance

Standing on the floor,
Surrounded by amazons in 6 inch stilettos, throbbing drums beating our chests,
We move.
We sway and shake.
We are sexy and we know it and so do they.
We see them moving in, all hair gel and too much lynx, and we move.
We shake and sway away;
And they pursue.
Stalking us across the floor, past herds of copy-cats.
They are on the prowl, the hunt.
Any savage can dance, but we want more.
We shake to the beat of the throbbing drum in skin tight seduction put on to please,
To tease.
We bait the trap and wait for them to bite,
And they always do.
Any savage can dance, but we want more, and so we sway.

It's not really a poem, but it's not really prose. The line breaks are more to do with the speed at which the lines should be read. I was focused more on the rhythm of the words, on alliteration and a little bit of internal rhyme, which i don't normally really consider. I also wanted to get across the idea of people like wild animals, which doesn't come across quite as clearly as i wanted, but i only had 5 minutes, so i can forgive myself that. What do you think?

“Only great minds can afford a simple style.”

So i was on the sartorialist today because i'm sartorially uninspired, and i found this man, who i am now entirely in love with. I shall call him Theo.


Everything about his look works, the matching coat and all stars, the little stripey cardigan, and his adorable little wonky grin. I'm in love. Why don't boys at Sussex dress like this?

Then i saw this photo. I want to be this girl, she looks so cool, but like she's having so much fun. On an odd side note, her name is Clea, the name of the character i played in Black Comedy, which we performed to record breaking audiences this week. Go us! Maybe it's a sign of some sort, telling me to dress better or go to paris or something?


Now i have to go try and find some clothes to wear, and i know i won't look as cool as these guys, so it's hard to find the energy to bother!