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13 September 2004 @ 11:24 pm
Why have brick when you can have candyfloss?  

I know most of my posts are astronomically long. This is due to my propensity to ramble at length about nothing in particular. LJ cuts have been provided, little use though they are really...

Have finally filled in gabbysun's quiz, late of course, because of my irrefutable thoughlessness. So here goes:

1 -- Leave a comment, saying you want to be interviewed.
2 -- I will respond; I'll ask you five questions.
3 -- You'll update your journal with my five questions, and your five answers.
4 -- You'll include this explanation.
5 -- You'll ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed.

1. In the end, would world domination really be worth it? Of course. I mean, me ruling the world? It doesn’t get better than that. I heart benevolent dictatorship.
2. How far does your personal comfort zone extend? Several thousand feet, encompassing at least three continents and a couple of time zones. Move ova, biotches! This is mah deckchair/world!
3. What is the first thing you notice about someone? Their hands.
4. How old are you physically? How old (or 'mature') do you feel mentally? Physically: Eighteen years, four months, seventeen days, nine hours and some minutes. Mentally, about five and a half. I have never, ever been mature. *shudders*
5. Have you ever asked Jeeves? But of course. He’s the best character in PG Wodehouse. Sadly, he refused to find me porn, so I had to go find the Harry Potter fandom all on my own.

Going through old files and diaries because I have too much time on my hands. I came across this little gem! I really am a Suethor! Or at least I was. At the age of fourteen, anyway. (And man, my diaries from then are a platform of angst and a total wank-fest. I had a miserable time at that age, fortunately can barely remember a single thing about it.)


Not yet awake, Adella smiled in her sleep, remembering the night before [She can remember things in her sleep. My, my. Sue-powers manifest early on in this.]. She had danced five dances with the Duke of Rasecar [Racecar?!!?] and he had been the epitome of courtly attention. With his pale, translucent skin, watery blue eyes and floppy black hair, he was also the image of what passed for [a glass of water disguised as a person] the male ideal in Panaria.

She came awake slowly as the mid-morning sunlight streamed through the open rush blinds. Adella had not seen the dawn for ten years, not since she had been presented at the Crystal Court [oh, gods] at the age of fourteen [so she’s twenty-four. That’s really OLD for a Sue! *smacks self upside head* D’oh, I stoopid] and begun the incessant whirl of parties, feasts, banquets and numerous other Royal festivities that had not ceased since then [proofreading? What is this evil of which you speak, future self? There are some things a Sue should not wot of…].

She stood up out of bed [], brushing back her hair from where it had become entangled with a fall of Adagimo silk on the front of her cloth-of-silver nightdress. [I was a good little Sue. More clothing descriptions, over-the-top and extensive, feature in the following.] She slipped into a watered silk dressing gown fastened with winking opals the size of her thumbnail [I have no idea why I thought that would be a smart sartorial move for her]. She then sat down to a light breakfast of whipped cream on compote of pear, three boiled quails’ eggs, drinking chocolate in her initialled silver tankard, [wtf?…Where I am going with a bell on my bike? I’ve never eaten any of this crap!] topped off with thick slices of the highly expensive black bread of the Sangrials slathered with honey [I wish I could say that I actually set out to be ironic here. Sadly such a reprieve would be far from honest.]

Such was the lifestyle of [wait for it!] Her Imperial Highness Princess Adella Naitheen Swenal Carnida [*cries*], third in line for the Crystal Throne that bound the wildly differing city and sea states of Panaria, Peshia, Polonia, Asmos and Dempti [I think pashminas were in fashion then. It shows. Robert Jordan, eat your heart out] together in peace and trade by the silken cords of sentiment for their in-bred and arrogant Imperial Family [full stops? Sentence breaks? Run on lines? And they are?].

Adella yawned as a timid knock at the door signalled the entry of her seven personal attendants whose sole job was to dress her for the day, often several times. The fashion in the Coastal Alliances was for layer upon layer of the richest fabrics - Adagimo silk, Qhoan lace, Peshian water-shot silk - over stiff crocheted underskirts for the women, with a short bolero jacket, and for the men, the same but shorter [and imagine, I’d never heard of bishounen, or indeed the word ‘androgynous’, at this point. Freaky]. As a princess of the blood of the Carnida [candida…] family, Adella’s outfits were always required to be more extravagant and ridiculous than anyone else’s in the Alliance. Therefore outfitting her took the best part of an hour, if not more. [So this pampered inbreed was gonna be chucked into a rough-it adventure with a *real* man and come back self-sufficient and brave. Or, if we want to be realistic about her future, dead.]

Finally, she decided she was ready, if not pleased with her appearance. Adella, a tall and rangy girl - for she was a girl [hey, dude, thanks for clearing THAT up! Because the nightdress and the flouncy frock et al didn’t give it away in the LEAST] - did not suit the times, which demanded short, plump, curly-haired women as their beauties. Adella’s [bony, horse-faced, plain, skinny] delicate, fine-boned features, determined square jaw and long poker straight hair [of course. Because at that time I couldn’t get my hair straight for love nor money, and ceramic straighteners hadn’t been invented] of an indefinite colour somewhere between brown and blonde, did not fit the bill. As always the determined attempts of her maids failed to make an impression of a wave in her fine, silky hair, and settled for binding two strands back from her temples at the back of her head with a mother-of-pearl wire [before twirling it around her neck and strangling her to death with it. ‘That’s another job well done,’ said one, throwing back her apron to reveal the crest of the Sisterhood’s hated enemy, the Realistic Rendition of Characters Task-Force.]

And finally, the latest on my damn-fool life and rather inexplicable family.

It’s official. I should not be allowed out in public with money. I just spent SEVENTY euro on books. Seventy euro, that, technically, I did not have, because aside from a bit of results dosh I have no money, and I’m hardly going to get anything ‘for starting college’ from the rellies, seeing as I’m not. The worst thing is, it was only THREE books. They are horrendously expensive here. Two of them cost twenty-nine euro. And I couldn’t get the nice hardback book on David Hockney, which had loads of big colour plates, because I couldn’t AFFORD to, and so had to content myself with a pocket-size black-and-white one. Hmph.

My father droned on for ages in the car about a fat women who cut out fat in her diet to lose weight, but couldn’t until she lost the carbs, mistaking me for someone who had the slightest interest. (As I subsist on pizza and chocolate, get vitamins by eating cod liver oil pills and whose idea of keeping healthy is to work off all the junk I eat on our running machine, I’m not a fan of nazi-style slimming programmes. IMO, you should stop yourself from getting fat in the first place). Anyway, in my house carbohydrates are now T EH EBIL, slipping in ahead of saturated fats.

ME: Soon they’ll declare war on proteins and then we won’t be able to eat anything.

He got all shirty with me after that and refused to turn the radio to the music station. Honestly. Parents.

My cousin in Australia, Rona, who got married in April this year is now preggers. Her sister was the same, they both got married at twenty-one and were pregnant within the year. Natalie is about twenty-four or five now, married since ‘99 with two kids. My grandmother better not be expecting grandkids out of me - I deeply doubt they’ll be along any time soon. If ever.

Ed Byrne is love.

Current Mood: recumbentrecumbent
Current Music: 'These Words', Natasha Beddingfield
high and mighty mansplaining robotrimestock on September 19th, 2004 04:00 pm (UTC)
I will.

I'm annoyed that I forgot about this, because a little bit before I headed to work an hour ago my mom called her mother...
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on September 20th, 2004 11:10 am (UTC)
This is called Life...it generally likes to hit you between the eyes.

I tend to write things on my hand...one day I'll probably get skin poisoning.
high and mighty mansplaining robotrimestock on September 20th, 2004 12:47 pm (UTC)

1. Momma says that she got an answering machine, and didn't recognize the voice, so doesn't know if the number is still good or not.

2. Dude! Me too. Right now the back of my left hand says "Look up S. in OOP" which is technically wrong... I should have written "Look up S. in COA" but either way, I managed to figure out what I wanted to say. And discovered that S. was not in the COA. So... that was disappointing...
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on September 21st, 2004 10:52 am (UTC)
I usually got so bored in class I'd decorate my entire hand with biro tattoos, hence obscuring the notes and negating their entire purpose...and also getting in trouble for not paying attention.

Nevermore!! HAHAHA!
high and mighty mansplaining robotrimestock on September 21st, 2004 11:42 am (UTC)
I did that once in art class... sketched the scene outside the window on the back of my hand in blue ink. My hand was very very blue. The teacher didn't give a flying fuck, but Daddy made me wash my hand off because he claimed he was worried about ink poisoning.
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on September 22nd, 2004 10:53 am (UTC)
Sadly. it is not exactly what you could call a lasting sort of art form...dangerous, too, although they said that about every new movement since the Impressionists and as far as I know, no one's got ink poisoning from any of them...
high and mighty mansplaining robotrimestock on September 22nd, 2004 12:04 pm (UTC)

*gives Ed a quarter to shut him up*