The Black Star

A blog dedicated to the series of unfortunate events that always happen around me. Not so much unfortunate, more like funny.. but unfortunate sounds better.

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Saturday, March 11, 2006

Alienation

So well, not much happening today, just chilling at the flat and falling asleep when I was supposed to be doing work. Nothing new, then. It's a good thing I still have a few tales left from the last entry (left them out on purpose as I knew there wouldn't be much material for this one... how damn clever am I?).

Earlier this week I was walking around the uni with James (I think we had just gotten something to eat at the Union) and all of a sudden he says "isn't that him?" and he stares in a northwest direction. "him? what are you on about?" I ask, but he just keeps staring, as if trying to figure something out. I look, but I don't see anything significant. "What the hell are you on about!?" I demand this time, getting a bit irritated. He finally speaks in a sort of confused way "isn't that that guy... your flatmate... Irish guy?" I look in the direction where he's looking, but I don't see anything. After verbally abusing him a few times I finally do see it. It is him! Working. On somethig other than women! He's actually working on some civil engineering stuff to make our uni better! You have no idea how shocked I was to see Richie working. Up until that moment I had thought that he was just some bum living in our flat posing as a student. But that confirmed it, he did do something once in a while. The next day we passed by the same spot and there were people working there again! However, Richie wasn't there anymore, he had been replaced by another person. He probably got the sack--now that makes much more sense...

So on Friday James and I are making our way to the computer cluster in order to attend our practical. I decide we should take the back route (stop thinking about that, that's not what I meant (just guarding against Tiny)) and after a bit of arguing we finally do. Then, my next brilliant idea is to take the lift up to the first floor (I'm lazy, okay?). So we get in and push the button labled "1" and we wait. We're talking about something, whatever the hell it was, who cares, and then after a few seconds we agree that it doesn't feel as if it's moving. After a few more seconds we agree that indeed it is not moving. After a few more seconds we agree that we have to do something to get the hell out of there as we're probably trapped. Just as we're about to start panicking the doors open and we see this bloke waiting to get in (and we notice we're still in the basement). So we get out of the lift as fast as it is humanly possible and we see that the bloke is getting on. James tells me that we should tell him that it's broken. "Fuck that, let him figure it out for himself... let's go" and we left. Yep, that's me at my best.

Now Ryan's quite the disturbed guy. He watches the most gory of films and the most fucked up things ever. In fact, if I had to signal a person that's more disturbed than I am I would probably point to Ryan. I've watched some of his films and although they haven't disgusted me or troubled me, I can see how they could completely fuck somebody else up. Yesterday, though, Ryan let me in on a little secret that if known to the masses, it could destroy his reputation as the horror man. Here it is: Ryan is scared of E.T. Yes, E.T. the film. The one that has the description in the back starting "A lost little alien..." I couldn't believe it when he told me. This guy who listens to aggressive death-speed metal and laughs at emotionally scarred little kids is afraid of a PG rated film! I laughed for at least five minutes in his face--something I think he didn't appreciate--before I could calm down and then laugh some more. Then he told me that he was serious, that the only times in his life that he had had nightmares had been when he had watched E.T. I just couldn't stop laughing at that point.

Today Steve came over to bother and eat, and I happened to let him in on the secret (he was looking through the films and he questioned if we should watch E.T.). He laughed for about ten minutes before he could calm down. After that he took the piss out of Ryan throughout the rest of the night. But, finally, we ended up watching E.T., just to help Ryan overcome his fear of the lost little alien. Oh, and of course so that we could take the piss out of him.

Friday, March 10, 2006

The evil that men do

So way too much has happened in the past couple of days, even if I have been working hardcore until 7pm every day since Monday. It's odd how so much happens when you're outside the flat for most of the day, huh? lol.

Anyway, it has been raining almost constantly for the past week. Not heavy rain like in Venezuela, but light rain but throughout the whole day. It's not bad, really. In fact, I enjoy it for two main reasons. The first reason is that if it's raining, it means it's not freezing cold (and in fact, since it started raining daily from around Wednesday the temperature has been around the double digits) unlike when the sun is shining (I still find that so deceiving... it sort of pisses me off). Second of all, for some reason it makes me feel in place, if you know what I mean. Probably not. Well, Newcastle was supposed to be a rainy place, but aside from the past two weeks it had barely rained. In fact, it had been sunny for most of the days. For some reason that unsettled me, but now that I'm getting what I was expecting I do feel more at ease. If that makes sense...

I've noticed that no matter how late I am to a lecture (10 minutes tops), I'm never late. How does that work? Well, whenever I'm late the lecturer is usually late. Not that we sync up or anything, but it's just the way it happens. Remember the time when I was seven minutes late to y Environments lecture and the lecturer hadn't arrived? Well, it happened again but with programming a few days ago. And then today I was ten mintutes late for my business seminar (I decided to go back and have breakfast after my early lecture and got caught for time... ended up leaving the flat at 11am when my seminar was supposed to start at 11:05!) and once I got there, all rushed up, the guy hasn't arrived. In fact, the room was locked, so we ended up starting the seminar at almost half eleven. Not that I'm complaning, it's just that if I knew that they were going to be late as well then I wouldn't be running like a fool in the streets trying to make it "on time."

While I was working in the Old Library, I stood up to stretch my legs and saw this ad on the wall. It read "Too busy? Nightline" and it gave you the number at the bottom. I'm pretty sure I've explained this before (oh, yes, I have.. when I was thinking about taking up a job there) but the Nightline is a phone number you can call (really?) when you're feeling down or suicidal or, you know, fucked up. Which makes me wonder what that has to do with being buys. Are they going to do your work for you--give you the answers over the phone? Are they going to make you feel better by talking to you for half an hour and then make you realise that you could've finished a sizeable chunk of your work during that time and that now as a result you'll go to bed half an hour later than you would've? What could they possibly do!? What a waste of time!

Ryan was making fun of this guy with a huge moustache (or he was reading about someone making fun of him, whatever) and he came up with "the wolf attacked me... but luckily I had a pistol hidden in my moustache." To which I replied "I have a bazooka hiddin in my 'fro."

Ryan and I were at the pub watching a footy match and talking about some random shit. I don't remember what I was talking about, but I said "well, yeah, it's great because when you're alone you can just whip it out and entertain yourself." There was a short pause, and then we were both horrified. We agreed never to talk about it again.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

When idiocracy took over

So I'm glad to say that I slept through the whole night for the first time in five days. I'm quite happy about that; I feel rested for the first time in ages. How did I do it? I tired myself out enough so that I would fall sound asleep and nothing would wake me up. Since I'm sick (I think I'm sick... perhaps the best term is "not well") I just couldn't drink myself up, so I stayed awake until 3am watching some dodgy stuff, you know, to get myself tired. I succeeded. I entered the dream realm in less than 10 mins and the next thing I knew was that my throat was hurting... damn it. And the light is bothering me as well... wait, light? Hurray! I made it through the night!

Not much to tell about today... woke up late, went to my only lecture and then came to the Old Library to get some work done (which of course I didn't). However, I forgot to write yesterday that I spent a substancial amout of time working on my stupid PHP project. Ercole pointed out that it wasn't working, and when I checked it it indeed wasn't. But it had worked only hours before when I was testing it. I swear it was. So well, I spent the first 45 minutes or so trying to make it work again, but the code looked just fine--just how I had it before. It seemed as if I was cursed to fail this assignment. But then I decided to evaluate the error message, and what I got from it was that the HTTP stream wasn't opening. That meant that the URL I was specifying wasn't working. I checked my permissions and it was validated for external viewing. Hmmm. I did all kinds of things, even moved it to another folder yet it gave me the same error. And then I decided to post it on the URL bar and see what I got (yeah, the obvious choice) and it was non-existant (as I expected). Fuck me. I checked the right again and everything was fine. So while I'm starring at the screen, thinking of what's wrong I see a problem. The URL is missing something... something like my name! I specify the right file and the right folder, even the right server... but not the user! So it was looking for all that stuff in the main uni server and not in mine! What a tit I have been! I added "james.nicholson" to the middle of the URL, tried it, and my page was working once again. Idiot! Best way to throw away 50 minutes right before a deadline, right?

Now you can check it out as I'm sure it'll work. Again, it's not the most exciting page, but it's fucking hard to code. Really pisses me off how hard it is to code the simplest things. Anyway, knock yourselves out. Give it a try!

I happened to make pancakes this evening while watching the Boro match. I was virtually kicked off my seat so I decided I'd make myself something to eat. The only problem is, when I make pancakes I usually make a shitload of them. Last time I made... I forgot... around 15. So well, when the people of the flat see me go by with eggs and milk, they tell me I should make some pancakes. Hmm, it's almost as if they read my mind, so I confirm I'm going to make pancakes and they all shout for one.

So well, I make around five or six and eat them up, but then there's quite a few and I'm filled, so I decide I could do some charity. After all, it's been quite a while since the last time I did something good for anyone. So I cook the first one and ask who wants a pancake--and it turns out they all do (that would be 6 people). So I'm faced with the decision of who's first (well, second as Steve had already stolen a pancake earlier... but they didn't know that) and I decide I'm going to give it to the pretty lady that joined us for the footy match. They're all surprised, and then they all start bothering me about it. But hey, you would've done the same... pretty girl always comes first. Then she comes over to wash the plate, but I take it away from her and tell her that I'll take care of it (well, in reality I just wanted to recycle it, but I thought I'd make it seem as if though I was going to wash it) and well. Nick's washing something, and she puts her arms around him for some odd reason, and then Tom shouts out "why are you hugging Nick? It was Jimmy who made you food!" Much to my surprise she comes over and gives me a hug. Nice moment... good moment.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Choking the night away

So today I went to the doctor. Yep, that's how bad I was feeling. I think I didn't sleep for the fourth day in a row (and the way things are going, five will be extremely likely) and well, it was getting to me. I think the statement "I was shitting my pants" is an understatement. You have no idea how scared I was of going in there. James had to practically push me all the way there, then pin me down whilst there, and then drag me into the doctor's room. So much hassle for just two minutes of interaction.

I officially don't have tonsillities--not yet, anyway. I think that was the most useless visit to the doctor ever. She took a look, said that I was fine and told me to fuck off. Well, I'm not bloody fine if I haven't been able to sleep for four days because of the pain, am I!? Bottomline is that I have to wait until later when I'm nearing my death until the doctor can do something useful for me, as I just have a soar throat... even if I find it very hard to talk and eat. But hey, this could be a blessing in disguise. I've kept my mouth shut for most of the day... maybe I'll stop talking forever? Eh. Now I remember why I didn't trust the fuckers... but hey, at least I got away without an injection (I think that's the first time ever that I've been to the doctor and left without an injection)!

Earlier we were in our programming lecture (yes, that one most unfortunately) and all of a sudden this alarm goes off. So well, she keeps on lecturing for the next five seconds, but then she figures something's wrong. She doesn't quite know what it is, so she looks around very quickly and then figures something must be wrong. Well, maybe not: "Is that anybody's mobile phone?" she asks in her Russian accent. Everybody just laughs, obviously amused at what she had just said (which we figured was in a joking way, which was a bit funny... but it was most likely a serious question, so it was hilarious). Judging by our reaction, she goes outside to figure out what's going on; She's gone for a minute. Then someone says out loud what we've all been thinking: she probably buggered off and left us here to die, after all we've been quite cruel to her. But no, she comes back thirty minutes later with a techie and he types in the 5 character code and it stops. He then tells her that if it happens to go off again she should press a, b, c, d and.... Naturally we laugh at the circumstances. He then disactivates it again and gives her the code once more. Not a bad way to end our last lecture ever (well, for this year) with the Russian lady... at least I didn't fall asleep during that one!

Later on, while waiting for my appointment time to come, James and I went for lunch at Burger King's. They were playing some really dire music (y0u know, that new music kids listen to nowadays...) and then this hip-hop song came on, just instrumental, though. You could really tell how shite it was. Same monotonous beat over and over again. I felt like hanging myself, but then, I'll probably choke to death in a couple of days if my throat keeps on breaking down at the rate it is. Anyway, I finally let it out: "I can fart this song... probably even better than the original."

While we're still talking about excrements, a funny conversation took place yesterday between Nick (flatmate) and Steve. Joe (Steve's flatmate) went for a crap during the halftime of the Chelski-Barca match. After he got the job done they were meant to head down to the pub to watch the second half. Only that Joe took quite a long time to get the job done... he took the whole 15 minutes. Steve's quite annoyed, and he voices his desperation: "Okay, so you're meant to enjoy it when you take a shite--by all means, take in a magazine and read and have the time of your life... but when you're in a hurry, you just squeeze it and move on!" and Nick, who was just passing by just says "yeah, you should always enjoy a poo" and he disappears. I was never much of a poo-enjoyer. I just like to drop the log and get the hell out of there.

While we're still talking about hell, here's a closeup for those of you who are visually disabled. Remember that you can click the picture for a full-sized photo. Now, if you look under the label (clearly stating that's Hell) you will see the most racist thing ever.


That's supposed to be the sign of the devil, but the artist "accidentally" added a sixth point... which makes it a Star of David!

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

The sun goes down

So I've got tonsillitis, it's almost official. Fuck me. I still haven't gone to see the doctor (I'm doing my best not to, but I've reached the stage where I can't sleep, so I'm forced to at this point) but I looked at all the symptoms and I've got all of them. Plus, I had the same thing in December. This sucks.

Do I get a break because I'm suffering? No, of course not. I spent most of the day working on my stupid PHP thing and eventually got it done after about 4 straight hours of working on it (plus about 3 hours from yesterday)... and the worst part is that it's crap. http://www.students.ncl.ac.uk/james.nicholson/forms/project2/submit.php if you want to check it out and laugh at me. I still have to work on minor details, but at least now it does what it's supposed to do... so crap.

And well, I've practically finished that (which is due tomorrow) so I'll be able to rest off my tonsillitis. Oh, of course not! I've got to work on my essay due Friday. But then I'll be able to rest, right? LOL. If only I didn't have my Java project to work on...

On the upside, though, I found out that some random person linked to my blog. I don't know why, I don't know who... but hey, it's good! It means that at least someone reads it, right? Although I have a feeling it could've been a generic thing, but hey, still... I'm becoming famous! lol.

I always thought that running in the cold would be cool. You know, you don't have the sun burning you down, so you auto-cool yourself. That's always been my thought. However, I tried it some time ago (I was at the pub waching a footy match and they called me from Tesco telling me they were 2 minutes away from delivering my groceries) and it's really not that great. The cold air burnt my throat and my lungs, and I could only properly run for about 3 minutes. After that I felt lightheaded. Of course, it could be because I'm completely out of shape, but still, the cold had something to do with it. In case you're interested to know, I did make it on time back to my flat. How? I mistakenly told the guy to go to Northumbria University and then to come back to Newcastle Uni... that bought me some time. He didn't seem too happy about it, though.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Highway to Hell!

So I can't really say anything exciting happened today. I've been feeling really bad, but I still had to attend lectures. Not only that, but I had the busiest day ever. Until 7pm, I only rested for 30 mins when I went to my flat to grab a bite, but since the kitchen was taken I just ate some Jaffa Cakes and moved on. That's right, I had my usual 5 hours of lectures, plus an hour of explanation about the modules I should take next year, and then the rest of the time working on my PHP. The damn thing just won't happen! It's incredible!

During my programming class (you already know how much I dislike it) I tend to look at the clock every ten minutes hoping it's over. I'm always disappointed, obviously. But I just can't help it, I can't go more than 10 mins without looking over at the clock. About a week ago, though, I managed to go quite a long time without looking at the clock (maybe I fell asleep, don't remember) and then when I looked it was quarter to. Yay! Only fifteen minutes more to put up with! Then a while later I looked back at it again. Hmm, still quarter to. Time seriously does go slow. Then, after another while I look again and it's still quarter to. That's it, I'm pissed. There is no way in hell that time goes by that slowly (or, more appropriately, doesn't go by at all!). Something's definitely wrong. I look at my watch and it indeed says that it's quarter to (well, around). Interesting, perhaps I've completely lost it now. So I want for another while and I glance again at the clock and--you guessed it--it's quarter to. Fuck me. I look at my watch and it's five to. Hmm. How come I didn't figure out that the clock wasn't working before? I knew that time stood still during that lecture, but I never expected it to literally become still. So pajuo...

Something that I've noticed while here is that they have insurance for everything. A quick example is when the cleaning lady found out that our freezer was off and that some stuff in there had gone bad, she said that if we had insurance then we could get it replaced. Yeah, food insurance. I wonder how that works, because I know that if I insured my food then I'd eat it and say that it got lost or something and then get it replaced... hmmm... very good idea, that way I wouldn't have to buy food ever again! But seriously, people take insurance here so seriously. In Venezuela nobody has insurance and everything gets stolen... while here everybody has insurance and nothing gets stolen. Ah, ironies of life. Oh, and there's even cock insurance (I'm not joking, I saw it on the telly... don't ask what I was watching)... how fucked up is that? (get it? lol)

Do you remember when I told you that Hell was right here in Newcastle? Well, I've got proof now. I thought I'd treat you to a picture of it. I'm also in the picture, but my afro isn't at its best. It had been raining, so it was all aplastado at the time of the photo. Yes, I know it's a gay pose... I was cold, cut me some slack. If you look carefully below the label you might be able to see the most racist thing ever...


Sunday, March 05, 2006

Slip inside the eye of your mind

So today I'm feeling bad as well, so going out of my room wasn't in the cards. However, Steve managed to drag me out to the pub (bastard) and well, there we watched the Spurs play Blackburn and win the thriller... really good match.

Anyway, we're there for a while, and then one of these girls (one of the waitresses, if you like) comes over to the bar and asks one of her mates "somebody ordered a fried egg... for table thirteen...... we don't have a table thirteen..." I'm about to say something, but as I don't know them that well I decide to keep my mouth shut. Steve doesn't: "A single egg? Who would order a single fried egg? Did you rally fall for that??" and then they realise their mistake (although I'm pretty sure she had already, Steve was just adding insult to injury). I just had to laugh, no way around it--you know me-- but I also couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her. Why would a bastard like me feel sorry for anyone? Well, if you remember the same thing happened to me during SAMUN two years ago, when I was handed a note for Italy. It just doesn't hit you immediately, but when you stop for only a second to think about it you just want to kick yourself up the arse.

While at the pub guess who I ran into. Yep, who else? It was fucking unbelievable... it's almost as if she's stalking me! Stalking me with Ryan on her mind. Bloody hell. I was just having a quiet drink (a coke... couldn't take alcohol because of my medicine... what the hell was I doing at a pub?) and watching Steve gamble away when I hear a very familiar "Arrrr, Jim lad!" I know it's her because she always salutes me in that way (why I don't know, really... might be because of something they did to me while I was asleep on the way back from Leeds?) and well, I know I have to say hello back. So I wave and she keep walking to the bar. Then on the way back she stops for a quick talk. I'm surprised she doesn't ask me where Ryan is (but well, I bet she knew he was staying in Manchester for the weekend... she probably asked him if she could stay with him!) but well, she then walks away to whatever meeting she was attending. What's worse, I have to see her again tomorrow first thing in the morning in my business lecture. The reason why I don't ask Ryan for a favour, Erc, is obvious. I hope you get this and you don't make me write it out for everyone to see.

Steve started to gamble again while at the pub; this time on a quiz machine. I've seen him lose at least a tenner at that, but I was surprised that he managed to win 5 quid this time around. I can't describe in words how happy he was. The question was, though, could he just walk away with the five? Of course not! You should've seen coming. So I warned him to stay away and use his 5 quid to get himself something or to go out another night, but once he told me to fuck off I just sat back and enjoyed. He ended up with net winnings of zero pounds (which means, if you haven't figured it out, Tiny, he lost the four pounds he had made profit on). I got to perform the "I told you so" routine... good stuff.

What was not so good was the pool game. There's this unwritten rule in pool that if your opponent pockets in all his balls and you haven't pocketed in one of yours, you have to do a lap around the pool table in your boxers. You see where I'm going with this. I was having the shittiest of games, probably because of my atrocious headace, and kept missing the easy ones (and the harder ones as well. Just go give you an idea I missed four semi-straight ones that hit the lip of the hole and bounced out. In contrast, Steve was in a roll. He managed to pocket five balls in his first two turns. I was completely fucked. But then he had a lapse and only scored one in his next three turns. I couldn't see myself pocketing one, though. I was almost starting to unbutton my jeans (not because I wanted to, but I just knew that Steve wouldn't let it go as I had made him run around the block in his boxers when he lost to me in ProEvo) when I pocketed the most flukiest of balls (well, it wasn't... I've pocketed many more unrealistic ones than that... but it wasn't one that I would normally pocket) and saved myself from freezing my legs off. Well, I did freeze myself to death when we left the pub to head the the flat, but it's not th same thing... fucking weather is terrible these past weeks!