Tuesday 18 June 2013

First time GoT viewer: Continued

As my last post mentioned, I'm currently documenting the reactions I receive by text from my friend, Hannah, who has just begun to watch Game of Thrones for the first time ever.  She hasn't read the books and, as a result, is 100% a sweet summer child when it comes to the series.

This post picks up right after the last one left off...

17th June 2013 - 18th June 2013

Hannah  22:09  HOLY MOTHER FUCKER ARYA JUST KILLED SOME CHUBBY KID
Hannah  22:28  HOLY SHIT SNOW JUST CUT THAT INVINCIBLE MAN'S ARM OFF
Hannah  22:32  Ah shit I don't want a Drago rebellion.  I love them!
Hannah  22:33  I think I fancy sexy fetal husband
Hannah  22:33  FERAL.  Feral.
Hannah  22:35  If he dies I'm going to cry
Hannah  23:59  NEDDDDDYYYYYYY
Hannah  00:01  THAT BLOND PIECE OF SHIT OF A BOY IS A CUUUUNNNNTTT
Hannah  00:01  NOOOOOOOO
Hannah  00:02  Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
Emma  07:57  ?
Hannah  08:25  Is Ned Stark really dead?!  Don't tell me though.
Emma  08:25  So you finished season 1.
Hannah  08:31  Uh uh, one more episode left.  Mewwwwwlllllll
Emma  09:07  Do you know of a way to reattach heads?
Hannah  21:25  NOW DROGO IS DEAD MEWWWWLLLLL
Emma  21:26  Yup.
Hannah  21:26  BUT I LOVE HIM
Hannah  21:28  This show makes me sad.  I hope someone just as good takes his place soon or I shall be in a mood.

Saturday 15 June 2013

Game of Thrones: Texts from a first-time viewer's perspective

My friend Hannah recently started watching Game of Thrones for the first time, after months of me telling her to watch the series and/or (preferably) read the books.  I've instructed her to text me after each episode with her reactions, opinions, and so on - I love seeing the reactions of someone who hasn't already read the books, and to find someone who is just starting the series from scratch was like a goldmine to my (slightly sadist) mind.

I feel I should share these texts with the world, to allow others to experience the joy I feel at each and every plot point throughout the story.  I'll (hopefully) keep this page updated as Hannah progresses through the series.

As of today, as far as I'm aware she's watched the first four episodes of season 1.  Here are the texts so far - enjoy!

13th June 2013  -  Facebook

Hannah:  I am on s1e3
Emma:  So what just happened?
Hannah:  Bran (little boy) is awake.
Hannah:  Mrs Sean Bean knows that knife was the imp's
Hannah:  Incest is weird
Hannah:  The bastard is on the wall
Hannah:  Erm.  Scary killy things in the woods but nobody believes they're there
Hannah:  WINTER IS COMING
Hannah:  Blonde lady with horrible brother and sexy feral husband is preggers
Hannah:  Sean Bean's lovely tomboy daughter has just got sword lessons
Hannah:  And Lena Headey's son is a little prick and that poor beautiful dog got killed
Emma:  So.  Top 5 characters.  Go.
Hannah:  Arya
Hannah:  Imp
Hannah:  Bastard
Hannah:  Mrs Sean Bean
Emma:  (You don't know most people's actual names, do you? :-P )
Hannah:  Blonde lady with horrible brother and sexy feral husband
Hannah:  Not yet, no
Hannah:  There's a lot of characters!
Hannah:  I'm only three eps in!
Hannah:  I want to like Lena Headey but eh
(After I'd attempted to teach her a few of the character's names)
Hannah:  I'M SO GLAD I GOT BRAN RIGHT
Hannah:  Initially I thought it was Bran but thought maybe I'd just mentally imposed breakfast on him
Emma:  Thoughts on Neddy Stark?
Hannah:  I'm not sure what to make of him yet.  I like his strong like justice and protection thing that seems to be going on, but that strength of him being so traditional is also a weakness that makes him seem like a bit of a cock
Hannah:  But I like his and Mrs. Sean Bean's relationship a lot
Emma:  And his and Arya's relationship
Hannah:  Yes!  I love that he got her sword lessons and let her keep needle

14th June 2013  -  Texts
Hannah 13:45  Now I've started GoT I want to read every article I see.  Such.  Will.  Power.  X

15th June 2013  -  Texts

Hannah  19:35  Watching episode 4.  Arya is so wonderful. x
Hannah  19:35  I do not like the chubby coward but I feel his character must develop positively.
Hannah  19:51  Are they going to shag.
Hannah  20:03  Mrs. Stark is so badass.
Emma  20:07  Arya's friend?
Emma  20:07  Arya is 9 years old!
Hannah  20:08  Nonono Snow and the chubby coward! X
Emma  20:37  Ohhh.  Samwise Gamgee.
Hannah  20:40  HOLY SHIT AS IF HE CUT THAT HORSE'S HEAD OFF.
Hannah  20:40  Lord Renley (?) and the jousting man are well shagging though.
Hannah  21:06  Gays.  Called it.

Monday 5 March 2012

Greetings from Dissertation Hell - wish you were here!

My box office position within the students' union has recently been extended to cover reception as well.  As a result, I am a permanent fixture of the reception office on Monday mornings.  Working reception always brings some interesting characters.  I'm a little astounded at the sheer number of people who are willing to walk into a strange building, find a member of staff (that would be me), and ask "where am I?  What is this building?"  Aside from the fact that there is a big sign stating what the building is outside the door, I have to wonder - are these people in the habit of wandering through open doors?  (And, if so, they may want to stay away from South Bridge - they're running a high risk of accidentally wandering into the Scientology HQ there.  So many have walked through that door, never to be seen again...)

A note to customers calling the box office in order to make phone bookings: please don't yell at the person on the other end.  'S' and 'F' sound remarkably similar.  Also, computers are funny things.  Please understand that it is not my fault if the computer freezes/messes up/does something unexpected, and I have to ask you for your card number again - is it really so much effort to read out a 16 digit number?  Does it really justify your huffing, puffing, and 'for-God's-sake'-ing?  Additionally, please note that the computer does not allow me to see what I've typed in on the previous page.  If you have an unusual surname, I may have to check with you how it's spelt a couple of times - I don't want to enter it incorrectly, and I have no means of checking.  I have to enter your surname in a few times.  Bear with me.  Too much trouble?  There are opportunities for you to come in and purchase your tickets in person, or buy online.

Really, just please be nice to staff members.  They're trying their best.  For all you know, they're currently juggling your telephone order (and dealing with slow/crappy computers in order to do so), plus a large queue of people waiting to make room bookings in person, plus other staff members needing to be let into the office when the door is locked.  A little courtesy and patience can really go a long way because, really, have they done so much to offend you?  They put your needs before their own.  In dealing with your enquiry, they may be letting their lovely cup of coffee go cold.  (I'm still mourning that cup of coffee.  The first cup of the day is always the best.)

My slightly hectic morning at work was, however, balanced out by whichever lovely person stuffed a wad of coupons into the price tags in Tesco.  Because of that coupon I found, I got £1 off a 6 pack of (much needed) energy drinks.  So, whoever you are, you kind, wonderful person - thank you.

It's amazing how much I can write when it's not my dissertation.  I'm currently living in dissertation hell (it's a real place, go and look it up), with 9 days until my deadline.  By 4pm on Wednesday 14th March 2012, I will be free of my undergraduate thesis, one way or another.  By 4.05pm, the majority of the Psychology class of 2012 will be gathering in the student union, ready to celebrate their freedom.  I will be one of them.  In the meantime, however, I have to continue with my content and discourse analysis of the construction of the identity 'chav'.  My findings so far: no one admits to being a chav.  No one likes chavs.  No one wants to be a chav.  Now, to stretch this into 8000 words...

One more thing before I go.  I'm currently having a mental overhaul in terms of what I want to do in the future.  I'm beginning to doubt my plan of going into clinical psychology.  I now change my mind daily about what I'm going to do once I graduate in 4 months' time.  Current ideas include, but are not limited to: clinical psychology (still), counselling psychology, psychotherapy, something to do with children, animal behaviour, something else to do with animals, police, forensic and criminal psychology... The list goes on.  Suggestions for what I'm going to do with my life are VERY welcome and, in fact, encouraged.

Monday 19 September 2011

The start of the new semester

I'm back!  I once again live in technological civilisation!

Okay, I've had the internet for a little while now, but still!  Rejoice!  Now I just need to get a TV aerial sorted so I can, y'know... watch TV.

My life has, as ever, been terribly interesting in my absence.  I got a job (hurrah!), working in the Box Office of my university's student association/unions (I use the plural of union because my university thought the normal one-union-per-university deal wasn't good enough.  We don't have one union.  We have FOUR.)

Anyway, as I was saying - I have a job.  Freshers' Week was last week, and I spent a lot of the week working on the box office, dealing with confused/arrogant/naive freshers.  I sold freshers' passes, I sold tickets to freshers' week events, I collected lost property, I checked passes on the way in to club nights, I gave a ridiculous number of people directions (and since none of them came back claiming to be lost, I'm taking my direction giving as a success, and not so bad that the freshers got lost, never to be seen again).  I dealt with language barriers between international students, I dealt with arrogant students who are clearly getting a bit above themselves now that they've moved out of their parents' houses and are in the big bad world of university (let the drinking commence and so on), I dealt with new students who had lost their keys/purse/phone/shoes/friends at evening events... I even collected a few interesting items in lost property.  There were a rather nice pair of high heeled shoes (I resisted the urge to take them and claim ignorance of their existence), and a fold-up knife.  I'm not sure who was bringing a fold-up knife into the students union.  Naughty freshers.  Must be a Glaswegian.

I also made friends with the security guys and got all the gossip - sneaky underage drinking (kicked out, banned for the night), students falling asleep after a few too many drinks (kicked out, banned for the night), some violence (kicked out, banned for the night), and so on.

Freshers' week is fun.

And now it's back to lectures.  Not so exciting, but hey - it's fourth year, I get to choose every single one myself, nothing is compulsory, and I'm damn well going to enjoy my final year of undergraduate university life.

For your viewing pleasure, I'm going to do a recap of Edinburgh University's Freshers' Week:

  • Thousands upon thousands of freshers from all continents of the world descending upon Auld Reekie and the fourth oldest university in Scotland (and sixth oldest in the UK.  And by double checking this fact quickly, I just discovered the university motto:  "Nec temere, nec timide" - or, "Neither rashly nor timidly".  Nice.)
  • Hundreds of lost freshers asking for directions.
  • Coffee crawls, castle visits, Arthurs' Seat walks, campus tours, parliament visits, and so on...
  • Lost property: a variety of coats, cardigans, and hoodies... A pair of shoes... A hat... A couple of purses/wallets... A couple of phones... About 5 student cards... A folding knife/plier type thing... A debit card... 
  • Property reported lost and never found: phones, freshers' passes, and a bag of champagne and roses (not a chance on that last one)
  • Strange sights seen: apart from everything?  I've seen people dressed as pokemon, wugs (it's a Linguistics thing), I've seen girls wearing fewer clothes than I would wear on the beach on holiday... Domestics in full view of security... Oh god, I can't list it all, I give up now.
  • People taken to hospital/injured, to my knowledge:  a fresher who trapped his hand in a door, bending the ring he was wearing out of shape so it couldn't be removed from his finger, leading to his finger swelling and him being shipped off to hospital.  Also, a guy who was trying to lie down backwards as he was walked out of the building by security one night - my suspicion is that alcohol was not the culprit.  A freshers' week volunteer developed a nasty rash which did not fade when a glass was pressed up against it; when ordered to go straight to hospital for fear of meningitis, the volunteer decided it would be a good idea to attend another activity first, and get to hospital later.  I never heard what happened to him.  And then there was me, on one of my evening shifts - I nearly collapsed and had to lie down on the floor at work and have my blood sugar levels tested (they were low).  I was given coca cola, and the option to go home.
I'm sure I'll think of more later.

Saturday 27 August 2011

Technology-less

I'm in my new flat.

My new flat seems to dislike the technological advances of the past century and more.

We have no internet (set up date: 7th Sept).  No TV (the built-in aerial does not seem to want to play).  Not great phone signal unless we're by the windows.

I'm going crazy from a lack of entertainment.

At least my flat is lovely.

Saturday 6 August 2011

A Quick Note

After posting my last post, and viewing my blog as it appears to you, I realised something that I felt I really must share.

I bought new wellington boots last week, in preparation for yet another winter in Scotland where it will inevitably snow heavily.

My new wellies are very pretty.  In fact, they have a pattern on them not dissimilar to the background of my blog.  The design of the pattern is, apparently, named "Picasso".

eBay is a wonderful piece of the internet.

The Woes of Dealing with People.

In view of continuing my posts to this blog, today will be a very rant-filled post.  Because everything sucks right now.  (Okay, not everything.  But enough.)

The first order of business:  The Student Loans Company.  (A.k.a. The Stress-inducing, We-might-give-you-a-loan-on-time-if-we-can-be-bothered, We'll-still-charge-you-interest-and-expect-your-repayments-to-be-bang-on-time-even-if-ours-never-were Company.)

In short: I applied for my loans for the 2011-12 academic year back in MARCH (2011), when applications opened.  My dad (who is retired and living on a pension) sent off his financial evidence in support of my application as soon as he received his P60 forms (or whatever they are).  The SLC received them on June 9th.  I phoned up on July 18th, having not heard anything.  I was told that, despite having received my dad's evidence, they hadn't done anything to process this.  They would do this straight away.  During this phonecall, I also discovered that they hadn't changed my dad's address (he moved 2 years ago, and told them.)  Which was fantastic.  So, they were given the new address (again).

Now, here I am 3 weeks later - still having heard sweet f.a.  So I phoned them again today, which resulted in my FURY.  I was told that they sent my dad a form to fill out, and they were waiting on it being returned.  Has my dad received said form?  Has he heck.  I told them this.  They said they'd send it out again.  (I wonder if we'll receive it this year?)  I then asked if all this faffing about will result in a delay in me receiving my money.  "Yes, possibly.  I can't say how long of a delay."  Well, that's just fucking FANTASTIC.  When asked how they expected me to pay my rent and bills, I was met with silence.

Monetary donations are always welcome.


So, now I've got that out of the way, I think it's time for a work-related rant.  Now; during the summer, I will often work for a former boss (Bill) selling ice cream.  This summer, I'm working in a wee kiosk (read: hut) situated on the banks of the River Dee in Chester.  It's very picturesque.  Unfortunately, I don't get much of a chance to appreciate the beauty of where I work, due to the sheer number of impolite, aggressive, overtly rude and generally unpleasant customers I have to serve.  So, for your reading pleasure, here's a rundown of some of the recent customers that spring to mind:

- A woman came up to my kiosk, claiming that her child had dropped the flake (from her '99' ice cream - soft whip ice cream with a chocolate flake stick jammed in it), and demanding another.  Now; imagine if you bought a chocolate bar from a shop, walked outside, unwrapped the chocolate bar and promptly dropped it on the ground.  Would you walk back into said shop, explain what had happened, and ask for another chocolate bar free of charge?  Would you expect them to say yes?  Of course you wouldn't.  But, you see, people don't tend to see the kiosk as an actual business.  Anyway, I looked over, saw a child (probably around 8/9 years old) standing with an ice cream, staring at a flake on the ground.  I thought, fine, I'll give her a new one.  However, in my moment of hesitation, the woman glared at me and snapped "what?!" in a rather aggressive tone.  I mean, seriously.  You're asking for a free chocolate flake.  Really, it's not my fault your child is a clumsy little shit.  Really, I should charge you for it if you want another.  But that would open a whole new can of worms because, of course, people expect to get something for nothing these days.

- Now, as I've mentioned, a '99' ice cream is a soft whip ice cream (a.k.a. a "Mr Whippy"), with a chocolate flake stuck in it.  No one knows why it's called a '99'.  It's been called that for as long as they've existed, and the reason behind it was long-ago lost to the world.  However, many people seem to be under the impression that they are called this because they were once 99p.  Some will go as far as to (falsely) recall the time when they cost 99p. Now - I have a price list on the side of the kiosk, displaying quite clearly the pictures of each ice cream and ice lolly I sell, plus the prices of each.  However, I will often get people coming up to me, ordering a few ice creams/99s, and then being shocked at the price and complaining.  Some of them will even walk off, leaving me with the ice creams in my hand.  (I think they expect that they will get the same ice cream for much less in one of the other kiosks along the river - I bet they get a shock when they realise that we all agree upon the prices so we all sell the same ice creams for the same price.)  I'd like to make this public knowledge right now - A 99 ICE CREAM DOES NOT, AND HAS NEVER, COST 99p.  AT PRESENT, THEY COST SOMEWHERE IN THE REGION OF £1.80.  FOR THIS, YOU HAVE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF THE CORNETS, THE PRICE OF THE MILK, THE PRICE OF THE FLAKES, THE PRICE OF THE ELECTRICITY NEEDED TO RUN THE ICE CREAM MACHINE, AND THE PRICE OF MY WAGES.  Furthermore, when 99s were first invented, it was a completely different currency we used here in the UK anyway.  99p just did not exist back then.  It was shillings and so forth.

- On a similar note, a few weeks ago I served a man who was buying Cornettos for several children.  He ordered them, I handed them out, and then asked him for the money.  He handed over the money, whilst saying "Don't you feel ashamed, charging this much for them?"  I was a bit surprised, since he'd been looking at the price list and knew in advance how much they would cost.  I told him that the prices are the same in all the kiosks - that's just how much they cost.  He continued: "I'm not arguing that they're not the same, but don't you feel ashamed?  It's criminal.  I can buy a box of 4 of these at the supermarket for £2, rather than pay £1.70 each for them from you."  Now, my boss was there, and he discourages me from saying the following to customers, so I didn't.  But what I really wanted to say was, "No one is forcing you to buy these ice creams from this or any other kiosk.  If you think the prices here are so criminal, and if you're so aware that you can buy them in a box from a supermarket for a much cheaper price, why don't you go and do that rather than whinging on to me about the prices?  Seriously, mate.  It's not like you're being held at gunpoint here."

- This anecdote is not from this summer, but from two summers ago when I was working in a different kiosk very nearby the one I currently work in.  In the old kiosk, the freezer containing the ice lollies was located directly below the serving hatch.  One sunny afternoon, a large group of teenage boys (I'd estimate around 18 years old) came up to me.  They all began ordering their ice lollies, and a few of them starting attempting to reach into the freezer themselves.  Since I have to add everything up in my head (we have no till, and we're not allowed to use a calculator for some obscure reason), this is most certainly not allowed.  Plus, I didn't completely trust them.  So I slammed the freezer shut and told them to tell me what they wanted, and I'd get it.  Anyway - they'd racked up about £20 worth of ice lollies by the time they'd finished, and I told them the total to pay.  They began laughing, and just walked off.  Big men, you know.  Very clever.  (Note my sarcasm, I'm aware it doesn't always translate well in the written form.)  I simply yelled after them that if they didn't pay, I would call the police.  One of them got scared at this, came back and paid the total in full.  He probably got the piss ripped out of him for this later.  Oh, and I called the police anyway.  They'd had a few complaints around the town about this group of lads.

- There are always some customers who decide that it is perfectly acceptable to bark their order at me before I've finished serving the previous customer.  In these instances, I choose to ignore them, and make them repeat their order when it's actually their turn.

- Similarly, there are also always some customers who order their ice cream, watch me turn my back and begin making their ice cream from the VERY LOUD ICE CREAM MACHINE and, during this time, decide to talk at my back.  Sometimes I can hear what they say; sometimes I can only hear that they are saying something, but not make out what it is; and sometimes, I'm only aware that they've said anything when I turned around and they look at me expectantly before repeating themselves as if talking to someone with an IQ below 50.  Even when I can hear them, I make a point of not responding and acting like I can't.  Seriously - it's impolite to talk to someone's back and add to that the noise of the ice cream machine... Come on, people.  Do I REALLY have to get that t-shirt that I want made, stating on the back "If you can read this, I can't hear you"?  Really?

- If you order an ice cream, and then ask for LOTS of sauce - please don't give me dirty looks or complain if, after giving you lots of sauce like you asked, the sauce starts to drip all over you.  The sauce is runny.  Common sense will tell you this.  

- Another thing common sense will tell you is that holding an ice cream by the very thin tip of the cornet is probably not the best of ideas.  The cornet WILL break, your ice cream WILL fall on the floor/you/me, and you most probably WILL blame me for this.  Despite me telling you beforehand where to hold it, or handing it to you in a way to encourage you to hold it near the top of the cornet.

- I can't give you free flakes, cornets, or tubs.  Stop asking.  You wouldn't ask a shop.  I'm no different.  We do a stocktake with these items.  I'm not being a bitch, I'm just doing my job.

- Also, to the two bitchy women I had a few weeks ago:  If you wanted more sprinkles on your ice cream, all you had to do was ask.  It wasn't productive for you to walk away bitching loudly about how I was "stingy with the sprinkles".  I mean, honestly, what did it achieve for you?  You want more - ask nicely, and you shall receive.  Bitching loudly will not get you anything.

I'm sure I'll have more to whinge about later on.  This is not an exhaustive list of my woes in dealing with the public.  There WILL be more to come.  I know you're looking forward to it.  Hey, complaining is my talent, okay?