The Ravings of an Over Caffinated Student

So I have this terrible problem--I sign onto mailing lists, then don't look at the e-mails they send me and feel guilty about it afterwards. At the moment I'm on John Kerry's mailing list, Oprah's, learn French, lose weight, and dictionary word of the day. I feel that if I ever actually read these things, I might be edified, but I just can't be bothered. Then I feel like a bad person for not reading them. I may have to join some kind of help group. Preferably with a mailing list.

So I told myself that I would start updating again. Once more I haven't. It's hardly surprising, is it? Oh well, those of you who know me well should know by now that I'm utterly undependable in anything. And yet people pay me to take care of their children...hmm. Well, again, little of interest has happened. Dan and I are back together, so there's quite the zippity doo dah there. Other than that, life is pretty much the same as it ever was. I'm stuck in the purgatory known as Turkey for another sixteen months, but now that Kat's moving here, it doesn't seem nearly so bad. I exaggerate, I like Turkey, I just get sick of the waiting sometimes. In September of 2007 Dan and I are moving in together and my life can start again. Most importantly, I will be getting laid again. Woo fucking hoo for me! Literally.

I know, I know, I'm a horrible person. I haven't updated in at least a century, and I'm sure that most of you probably assumed that I had been killed by Turkish Terrorists. Those of you who were glad and threw a party, well, fuck you all, I made it! And those of you who were sad, and still threw a party, well, it's what I would have wanted. Those of you who didn't care, and haven't thought about me once. Well, I probably haven't thought of you either, so I guess we're even, now aren't we? Anyway, other than not being killed, nothing of particular interest has happened. Unless you count accidentally getting engaged, sort of dating a thirty eight year old and getting offered a rug for sex (I did not accept) as exciting. These days nothing shocks me. Seriously, I'm even weirder than before. Who knew it was possible?

If anyone would like to donate money to the 'Jocie is Broke' fund, you are more than welcome to do so. In other news, I have recently learned how to say 'help', 'stop', and 'fire' in Turkish. I'm well on my way!

The idea of moving to Turkey is very exciting, but at the same time, I'm a bit terrified! What on earth will I do if I get kidnapped and placed in the white sex slave trade? I've never been to Turkey. I've heard it's nice. Oh fuck.

If you're in St Andrews and I haven't invited you yet, I'm having my birthday party on Saturday (7 May) at 5.00 at 7 Southgait (Yusuke, Andrew, and Leon's), so please come! Give me a text or e-mail if you need further directions etc.!

On the upside, I'm impressed by just how many people seem to know about my vomiting adventure, on the downside, I'm rather disappointed that I don't seem to be able to tell anyone myself. There's a very ugly woman on the TV who seems to have gotten confused while dying her hair and looks rather like a frightened skunk. Nothing of interest has happened in the past couple of days, though I did manage to bring up penis size in my tutorial. It was important. David thinks that the English department may have some kind of record or profile on me. I wouldn't be surprised. I should probably go into tutorials with a warning label: Do not ask me questions as I will just bring up vibrators, emissions, or penis size in a mad attempt to convince you to stop talking to me and/or convince you to not require tutorial attendance.

I am sorry to announce the death of international playboy and all out man's man, Jamie Potton. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him. He died early last week in an unfortunate mountaineering accident in the Andes. While stopping to help a baby goat whose tiny hoof was caught beneath a giant boulder. Jamie slipped on a trail of slug slime and just as he was about to recover his balance, a moment of epiphany came to him. It was then that he realised that the Catholics, had, in fact, been right all along. The shock of his discovery kept him from regaining his foothold and he fell to the earth, screaming in his last moments, 'Repent Peter Blair, repent! For Scotland!'. Or so I'm told. He leaves behind a nameless number of love children mothered by various models and aspiring actresses as well as a secret wife, the result of an elopement in his earlier days. It is said that his widow hides in the highlands, calling his name among the glens. Again, I'm just repeating what I've heard.

Hmm, so for anyone who has not had the 'winter vomiting flu', I highly recommend it. Especially for plane travel. Not only can a person vomit 9 times on a three and a half hour flight, but then the London port authorities will quarantine the plane for about an hour and a half to two hours. Then, when you finally get to go into the airport, you get to enjoy what I like to call 'the Michael Jackson Experience' by wearing a surgical mask. People point, stare, and occasionally laugh. Pink flowery masks are not available. Not even by request. So, yeah, that was my fun journey back from Poland. Then, I forgot to wear underwear under my skirt yesterday and it was really windy...let's just say that somewhere in Edinburgh, there's a group of Japanese tourists who will never be the same. I feel Marilyn Monroe's pain. And Michael Jackson. A strange amalgammation of the two. I'm going to go crochet some more.

I can't believe the weather we've been having! I wore flip flops the other day which was loverly. I'm rather excited to go to Poland, even though the weather there will be dreadful! We're having a movie marathon today which is always entertaining and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It's been one of those rather lazy days which are nice, especially when I'm going to be going all the way to Luton by bus tomorrow night. I'm not sure what I'll do on the bus, but I'll find something...I could learn more Polish, I could crochet, I could watch old men sleep...for those of you who haven't heard the story of the old Dundonian man...well, last time I took the train from the airport to Leuchars I sat and watched an old man sleeping and drooling. He woke up, so I had to pretend to be looking out the window and he wiped off his mouth with a handkerchief covered in what I can only hope was chocolate. After that he went back to sleep and when he woke again we got to talking. It turned out that he had lived in Dundee for almost 90 years and being slightly deaf, took, 'I'm a student at the University of St. Andrews' to mean 'I'm a maternity ward nurse'. We shared tea and biscuits. It was just one of those things. Those wacky things that only happen to me. I'm tired, I think I'll crochet some more.

According to my horoscope today I'm going to discover a new domestic talent. Hmm. I'm trying to figure out what it could be...are there any domestic talents which I don't possess yet? Apparently whatever it is, I will find books on the subject useful, and my partner will appreciate it. Other than learning how to make a bed exactly how Dan likes it (I still haven't quite gotten that one down) I'm not sure what he would particularly appreciate. This is why I don't read my horoscope. This is going to bug me all day.

Had afternoon tea today, very full. Wonderful, brilliant, perfect, lovely tea. Am going to go see Chicago in Edinburgh on Monday, can't wait! Nothing else interesting has happened. Though apparently Jamie and Laurence and I are declaring a communist state. I hope it's a lot like North Korea, we saw a lovely picture book of Pyongyang and it looks like such a jolly place to live. You can find the book in the library, I highly recommend it.